OF  THE 


R0SE 


IS1TY  OF 


• 


presented  to  the 

LIBRARY 
ERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  •  SAN  DIEGO 

by 
FRIENDS  OF  THE  LIBRARY 


SLAVES    OF   THE    SAWDUST 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST 


BY 

AMYE  READE 

AUTHOR  OF  "RUBY" 


NEW   YORK 

HOVENDON     COMPANY 

17  &  19  WAVERLY  PLACE 


COPYRIGHT,  1892, 

BY 
UNITED  STATES  BOOK  COMPANY, 


[All  rights  reserved.} 


TO 

ALFRED,  LORD  TENNYSON, 
POET   LAUREATE, 

WHOSE  DIVINE  POETRY 

AND 
LOVE    FOR    HUMANITY   HAS   TOUCHED   THE    HEARTS   OF   ALL, 

&l)ts  Book, 

WITH     PERMISSION,      IS 


BY    THE 

AUTHOR. 


PREFACE. 

MUCH  as  I  anticipated  opposition  to  the  indictment 
in  my  novel  Ruby,  in  which  I  dealt  with  the  cruelties 
employed  in  the  training  of  young1  people  for  the 
amusements  of  thoughtless  crowds,  little  did  I  expect 
that  the  selfish  unbelief  of  some  professing  philan- 
thropy would  have  been  my  greatest  difficulty  in 
arousing  public  sympathy  for  a  long-suffering  class, 
which  are  as  yet  practically  helpless. 

In  their  ill-judged  supineness  some  critics  acted 
against  me  without  examining  the  existence  of  the 
evil.  I  invited  such  examination  from  the  public 
platform,  and  made  such  efforts  as  I  deemed  advis- 
able through  my  novel  to  teach  the  public  the  truth, 
which  until  then  had  been  a  dead  secret.  Further,  I 
recommended  them  to  inquire  and  assure  themselves 
that  my  statements  of  the  veritable  horrors  of  the  ring 
were  positive  realities. 

My  challenge  was  unheeded.  They  asserted,  in 
their  ignorance  of  circus  life,  that  the  conditions  und,er 
which  I  described  the  children's  sufferings  were  im- 
possible, and  in  many  instances  I  have  been  met  with 
distrust  and  actual  contradiction. 

Some  could  not  understand  the  brutality  of  men 
for  the  sake  of  gain.  They  had  never  put  a  foot  "be- 
hind the  scenes, "  yet  they  deemed  themselves  capable 
of  judging  that  of  which  they  knew  nothing,  and  so 
declined  to  believe  an  accumulation  of  evidence. 
They  deprecated  any  interference  which  might  put  an 
end  to  what  they  call  amusement,  but  which  I  declare 
to  be  injustice  and  cruelty. 

I  have  been  severely  blamed  for  representing,  very 


6  PREFACE. 

mildly,  the  strong  language  daily  used  in  connection 
with  circus  life,  but  I  maintain  that  I  wrote  no  more 
than  was  necessary  to  point  out  the  moral  condition 
by  which  the  girls  are  surrounded,  but  sentimentalists 
preferred  that  the  evil  should  continue  to  exist  rather 
than  that  it  should  be  made  known  and  redressed  by 
public  sympathy.  Surely  that  which  is  too  horrible 
to  read  should  be  regarded  as  too  vile  to  live,  and 
the  language  which  has  outraged  their  instincts  can- 
not be  less  degrading  to  the  young  children's  ears, 
when  training  for  the  circus,  or  the  trapeze. 

Is  it  not  hypocritical  to  cry  down  that  which  is  true, 
whilst  erotic  novels  with  profligate  heroes  abound  in 
fashionable  libraries  and  adorn  the  drawing-room,  in 
order  that  fair  and  thoughtless  women  may  while 
away  the  languid  hours  ? 

Yet  these  very  people  frequent  the  circus  for  amuse- 
ment, and  enjoy  seeing  the  poor  spangled  riders  and 
acrobats  straining  their  limbs  into  all  kinds  of  un- 
natural postures,  knowing  as  they  know  now,  the 
frightful  tortures  they  must  have  undergone  to  fit 
themselves  for  their  performances. 

Their  selfishness  is  apparent :  they  withhold  their 
sympathies,  they  call  my  careful  statements  of  facts 
"Sensation,"  "An  advertisement,"  "An  impossibility 
in  a  Christian  country  " — could  I  not  write  of  such  peo- 
ple that  they  are  dull,  unimpressible,  and  wanting  in 
heart  and  moral  courage  ? 

It  is  true  I  drew  a  pitiful  picture,  I  set  down  hard 
truths,  truths  which  those  who  cry  out  about  sweaters 
in  the  slums  dare  not  have  uncovered.  I  make  known 
in  Ruby  a  great  deal,  but  there  is  more  to  divulge 
about  the  "  slaves  of  the  sawdust." 

My  mission  shall  be  to  tell  it.  I  will  go  on  until  I 
have  gained  the  protection  I  crave  for  those  who 
perform  wonderful  feats  for  the  pleasure  of  the  people. 

There  is  a  dark  phase  in  the  lives  of  those  who 
are  engaged  in  the  circus,  but  the  light  is  beginning  to 
break,  the  dawn  is  not  very  distant.  For  this  end,  I 


PREFACE.  7 

again  place  before  my  readers  another  tale,  founded 
upon  facts  which  I  have  personally  verified. 

With  renewed  vigour  and  perseverance,  I  am  again 
directing  my  steps  to  the  goal  from  which  will  arise 
the  emancipation  of  these  white  slaves,  and  all  my 
efforts  will  be  directed  to  that  great  end,  however 
remote  it  may  appear  to  those  who  have  found  it  so 
easy  to  consider  my  work  far  removed  from  the 
probabilities  of  truth. 

I  shall  never  weary  waiting  for  victory ;  1  shall 
never  tire  of  my  self-imposed  task.  I  intend  to  dedi- 
cate all  my  faculties,  all  my  time  to  win  the  cause  of 
the  young — no  opposers  shall  obstruct  my  path  even 
if  they  dare  to  impute  to  me  the  stigma  which  must 
for  ever  rest  on  those  who  put  idealism  under  the 
garb  of  truth. 

AMYE  READE. 

Christmas,  1891. 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 


CHAPTER  I. 

ON  THE  NAB'S  HEAD. 

WHAT  was  that  sound  which  broke  the  stillness  of 
the  summer  day  ?  Was  it  the  call  of  someone  in 
dire  distress,  or  was  it  the  hoarse  cry  of  a  seabird  ? 

Repose,  there  seemed  to  be  repose  everywhere, 
as  far  as  the  eye  could  see ;  even  the  little  village  of 
Sandcliffe,  with  its  quaint  houses  and  wayside  inn, 
was  basking  in  the  glorious  heat  of  the  July  day. 
The  unpaved  street  was  almost  deserted,  for  only  a 
few  cows,  driven  by  a  small  boy,  were  to  be  seen 
lazily  making  their  way  to  the  farm  upon  the  hill. 

Now  and  again  a  shopkeeper  peeped  out  of  his 
door,  for  trade  was  slack  and  there  was  nothing  to 
while  away  the  long  drowsy  afternoon. 

There  were  no  strangers  to  attract  attention,  for 
Sandcliffe  was  too  remote  a  place  for  holiday  folk, 
and  there  was  only  a  daily  coach  service  between  it 
and  the  town  of  Bayhaven,  three  miles  away. 

One  summer,  two  great  artists  had  come  to  paint 
a  sea  scene.  Quite  a  nutter  of  excitement  had  been 
caused  by  their  appearance,  and  the  villagers  made 
much  of  them.  Indeed  it  was  an  event  long  to  be 
remembered. 

But  this  summer-tide  there  were  no  artists  to  dis- 
turb the  tranquillity  of  the  good  folks  ;  so  the  days 
came  and  went  with  very  little  change  in  the  monot- 


10  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

oriy,  which  had  grown  habitual  even  to  the  young  of 
the  village.  Sometimes  a  funeral,  winding  its  way  to 
the  little  Norman  church,  would  give  rise  to  length- 
ened gossips  and  discussions  amongst  the  simple 
band  left  behind,  or  a  village  wedding  lend  a  passing 
excitement  to  those  who  had  known  the  bride's  mother 
since  baby  days,  and  had  watched  the  bride,  too,  as 
she  grew  up  a  pretty  and  graceful  maiden,  who  per- 
chance had  never  been  out  of  her  village  home,  and 
who  knew  nothing  of  the  restless,  anxious  world 
beyond. 

A  mile  from  these  village  homes  the  coast  stretched 
down  to  the  open  sea,  and  a  weird  spot  it  was. 
During  the  winter  days  the  waters  frowned  in  angry 
majesty,  and  heavy  grew  the  swell  against  the  cold 
grey  cliffs.  Terrific  was  the  roar  of  the  waves  as 
they  broke  against  the  pebbled  shore  ;  it  seemed  al- 
most as  if  sky,  cliffs,  storm,  and  sea  mated  together, 
making  the  scene  one  of  unabated  fury. 

But  there  were  no  storm  clouds  now  chasing  each 
other  with  angry  force ;  the  sweeping  waters  were 
resting,  and  only  a  murmur  like  a  melodious  chant 
was  discernible,  and  that  was  but  feebly  heard  from  the 
shore,  for  the  tide  was  down  and  there  was  a  great 
expanse  of  golden  sand  stretching  away  before  the 
blue  waves,  chaffing  in  idle  play,  could  be  reached. 
Further  along,  where  the  shore  grew  wider  and 
more  desolate,  the  murmur  grew  louder,  for  the 
waves  broke  against  a  mass  of  grey  cragged  rock 
whose  shattered  peaks  heaved  from  the  water.  At 
the  ebb-tide  they  stood  out  in  bold  relief,  but  at  the 
flow  they  were  hidden  by  the  waves.  Sombre, 
beautiful  as  they  were,  stories  were  told  by  the  vil- 
lagers of  the  treacherous  dangers  of  the  Nab's  Head 
Rock,  for  between  the  rock  and  the  land  an  under- 
current flowed  as  the  tide  rose,  and  so  insidious  was 
it  that  a  stranger  could  not  guess,  from  the  gentle 
movement  of  the  water,  of  the  terrible  foe  lurking 
beneath.  On,  on  the  current  came,  until  the  water 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  n 

grew  black  and  deep,  and  the  only  way  to  the  shore 
from  Nab's  Head  Rock  was  through  the  Valley  of 
Death. 

The  tide  was  rising  now,  and  each  moment  the 
rock  was  growing  less  and  less  beneath  the  advanc- 
ing tide,  whilst  the  current  between  the  shore  and 
Nab's  Head  was  running  in  with  tremendous  force. 
Soon  all  communication  would  be  cut  off,  and  the 
rock  would  be  submerged  for  many  hours. 

Once  again  that  strained  harsh  cry  was  heard  ;  it 
seemed  to  rise  from  the  bosom  of  the  sea,  and  then 
die  away  among  the  massive  silent  cliffs. 

Again  it  came,  fraught  with  anguish,  almost  heart- 
rending in  its  intensity.  It  could  be  no  sea-bird,  for 
the  words,  "Help!  help!  I'm  drowning  1  "  uttered 
with  passionate  entreaty,  reached  the  shore. 

A  rider  had  been  galloping  over  the  smooth  sands, 
as  yet  untouched  by  the  tide.  He  drew  rein  sud- 
denly, and  listened  ;  his  boarbound  uttered  a  long, 
low  growl,  he  turned  fiercely  towards  the  dog. 

"Be  quiet,  you  brute,  lie  down." 

The  animal  obeyed  his  voice  instantly,  and 
crouched  a  few  yards  from  the  restive,  panting  horse. 
The  rider  glanced  hurriedly  around — shore,  sand,  sea, 
cliffs  came  under  his  rapid  glance,  but  not  until  his 
eyes  rested  upon  the  rock  did  he  perceive  from 
whence  the  cry  had  arisen. 

There  he  saw  the  flutter  of  a  summer  dress,  an  up- 
turned face,  white  and  drawn  with  acute  agony  and 
nameless  terror.  The  owner  of  the  face  was  cling- 
ing to  the  rugged  rock  with  all  her  strength,  whilst 
the  sea  encroached  upon  her  every  moment.  The 
man  saw  that  action  must  be  prompt  or  it  would 
be  too  late. 

He  struck  his  horse  sharply  with  his  whip,  and 
the  already  nervous  and  excited  animal  plunged  and 
reared,  as  if  to  resent  such  treatment,  but  a  few  sharp 
pricks  from  the  spurs  caused  him  to  hasten  his 
pace. 


12  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

The  girl  had  caught  sight  of  the  man,  and  she 
renewed  her  cry  of  distress. 

"Help!  help!  I  cannot  reach  the  shore — save 
me!" 

"Don't  be  afraid,  Madam,"  he  shouted,  "I  will 
come  to  you  ;  my  horse  shall  do  it.  Hold  on  tightly, 
do  you  understand  ?  " 

His  authoritative  tone  reassured  her  ;  she  was  quite 
convinced  that  her  danger  was  over,  that  he  could 
really  rescue  her  from  her  perilous  position. 

"I  understand,"  she  replied' faintly.  Exhaustion 
was  stealing  over  her,  and  this  her  rescuer  seemed  to 
realise. 

"  Hold  on  a  little  longer,"  he  shouted  again  ;  "  you 
shall  soon  be  safe." 

The  dog  barked  lustily  when  his  master  attempted 
to  make  his  horse  plunge  into  the  deep  water  to  reach 
the  rock  beyond. 

Narrow  as  the  crossing  was,  the  animal  refused 
to  obey ;  he  resisted  bit  and  bridle,  and  the  barking 
of  the  dog  made  him  still  more  impatient  and  more 
eager  to  turn  his  back  upon  the  sea. 

"Hold  your  infernal  noise  !  "  the  horseman  shouted, 
and  he  stooped  down  and  gave  the  dog  a  stingihg 
cut  with  his  whip.  With  a  howl  of  pain  the  animal 
slunk  away,  and  watched  his  master  from  afar  with 
eager  eyes. 

Again  he  tried  to  put  the  horse  to  the  water,  but 
without  success.  He  plunged  again  and  again, 
backing  on  to  the  shore  until  his  haunches  almost 
touched  the  sandy  beach. 

The  girl  saw  the  affrighted  horse  from  her  vantage 
ground,  and  fear  crept  over  her  once  again.  Would 
the  man's  efforts  to  save  her  prove  to  be  unavailing 
after  all  ? 

He  did  not  call  to  her  again,  all  his  attention  was 
directed  to  his  horse.  Oh  !  how  long  it  seemed  to 
her  before  he  brought  it  once  more  to  the  water's 
edge,  and  yet  it  was  scarcely  a  minute.  He  applied 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  13 

his  spurs  to  the  already  bleeding1  flanks,  and  used  his 
whip  unmercifully.  Neck,  shoulders,  and  head  came 
in  for  a  shower  of  cruel  cuts,  until  at  length,  with  a 
neigh  of  terror,  the  horse  plunged  into  the  deepening 
sea.  On,  on  he  went,  feeling  his  way  cautiously 
and  timidly,  until  the  water  reached  beyond  the  girth, 
then  he  was  carried  by  the  current  off  his  feet, 
and  swimming  became  a  necessity.  At  last,  after 
many  a  struggle,  he  reached  the  more  shallow  water 
at  the  foot  of  the  rock.  There  was  just  sufficient 
room  for  the  horse  to  stand,  and  then  his  rider  spoke. 

"Now,  Madam,  do  as  I  tell  you,  quickly;  delay 
will  endanger  our  lives.  Come  as  near  me  as  you 
can,  otherwise  I  cannot  get  a  firm  hold.  You  must 
be  quick ;  it  takes  all  my  time  to  keep  this  beast 
quiet." 

She  crept  cautiously  towards  him,  and  in  another 
smoment  he  stretched  over,  and  grasping  her  firmly 
round  the  waist,  swung  her  on  to  the  saddle  before 
him,  and  then  wheeled  the  horse  round  shorevvards. 
The  task  was  not  easy.  With  one  hand  he  supported 
the  girl,  and  with  the  other  he  held  whip  and  bridle. 
To  make  matters  more  difficult,  the  horse  plunged 
wildly,  and  splashed  the  water  over  them,  blinding 
him  with  the  spray.  Sometimes  the  current  carried 
them  quickly  forward,  and  to  actually  guide  the 
animal  was  practically  impossible. 

The  girl  tried  to  thank  him,  but  he  bade  her  some- 
what sternly  to  be  silent. 

Back  again  with  his  double  burthen  the  horse 
fought  his  way  through  the  treacherous  current,  until 
at  length,  almost  exhausted,  he  felt  the  yielding  sand 
beneath  his  hoofs.  He  stumbled  once  or  twice  on  the 
loose  shingle,  and  then  the  girl  knew  their  terrible 
adventure  was  over. 

Her  rescuer  lifted  her  from  the  horse  as  easily  as 
if  she  had  been  a  child,  and  then  dismounting  him- 
self, he  slipped  the  bridle  over  his  arm  and  turned 
towards  her.  For  a  moment  they  stood  in  silence — 


I4  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

a  coyness  came  over  the  girl  now  the  danger  was 
averted  and  she  found  herself  face  to  face  with 
a  stranger. 

She  was  terribly  agitated  ;  he  was  calm,  cool,  and 
collected. 

At  last  he  spoke. 

"Won't  you  sit  down  for  a  few  moments,  Made- 
moiselle, on  that  boulder  close  behind  you  and  re- 
cover yourself?" 

He  had  substituted  Mademoiselle  for  Madam  when 
he  found  she  was  a  mere  girl,  perhaps  scarcely 
eighteen  years  of  age. 

"You  must  be  tired,  and  wet  too,  I  fear,"  he  added 
kindly.  His  tone  of  sympathy  gave  her  confidence, 
and  she  looked  up  into  his  face. 

What  a  pleasing  picture  he  made  standing  there. 
A  tall,  dignified  man,  about  thirty  years  of  age,  his 
dark  flashing  eyes  and  black  hair  served  to  show  to 
greater  advantage  the  rest  of  his  fine  features.  A 
heavy  black  moustache  half  hid  the  haughty,  smiling 
mouth.  But  how  firm  he  looked  :  vigour  and  energy 
of  mind  were  clearly  perceptible,  and  an  observant 
person  could  hardly  have  described  his  face  as  sin- 
cerely kind.  Handsome  beyond  a  doubt,  but  there 
was  something  undefined,  something  which  baffled 
description,  which  would  have  made  the  decision 
hardly  in  his  favour.  But  the  girl  only  saw  his  manly 
beauty,  and  without  knowing  it  her  heart  yielded 
to  the  lavish  touch  of  nature,  and  she  contemplated 
him  as  she  would  have  done  anything  else  which 
inspired  her  with  admiration. 

"  Yes,  I  am  very  tired,"  and  she  sat  down  on  the 
boulder  gratefully.  "  I  was  so  frightened.  How 
good  you  were  to  save  me."  She  paused,  her  eyes 
filled  with  tears.  After  a  struggle  she  continued : 
"  lam  so  very,  very  grateful."  She  put  out  her  hand, 
and  as  he  took  it  he  noticed  how  white  and  elegant 
it  was,  and  he  wondered  who  the  fair-haired  girl  could 
be  who  had  been  left  to  the  mercy  of  the  waves. 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  15 

"  It  has  been  a  great  pleasure  to  serve  you.  I  am 
deeply  thankful  I  came  in  time  to  be  of  use." 

He  smiled  bewitchingly  as  he  spoke,  his  eyes 
beaming-  with  genuine  admiration  as  he  looked  down 
on  the  pretty  girlish  face. 

"  You  are  very  good  to  say  so,  but  it  was  all  my 
own  fault.  I  fell  asleep,  and  when  I  awoke  the 
waves  which  had  been  so  far  away  before  were  close 
upon  me.  I  called  again  and  again,  but  no  reply 
came.  Then  I  thought  I  was  lost,  when  suddenly 
you  came  up  and  saved  me.  You  might  have  been 
drowned  too.  How  brave  you  were  !  " 

"  You  think  so,"  he  replied  in  his  rich,  decisive 
tones,  "  but  I  assure  you  it  was  nothing  after  all. 
Any  man  would  do  as  much  to  gain  the  thanks 
of  one  so  fair  as  you."  He  raised  his  hat  and 
bowed. 

She  smiled,  but  did  not  reply.  She  was  not  pre- 
pared for  compliments,  least  of  all  from  a  stranger, 
yet  they  pleased  her. 

Brave  and  stern  he  looked,  whilst  the  shadows 
played  around  him — a  man  born  to  be  a  hero,  if  the 
Fates  had  not  denied  him  such  glory — a  man  who 
would  have  defied  life  and  death,  if  such  could  be 
possible  ;  but  he  possessed  one  peculiar  faculty,  of 
which  he  was  very  proud,  and  that  was  his  power 
of  inspiring  fear,  yet  with  passionate  love,  when  he 
chose  he  used  this  influence  with  great  force.  This 
spell  he  now  cast  over  the  young  girl  before  him. 

"  Be  quiet,  sir,  do  you  hear,  be  quiet."  He  turned 
to  the  horse  with  a  scowl.  "  You  brute,"  he  had 
been  about  to  say,  but  discretion  came  to  his  aid  and 
he  substituted  "  sir." 

"  'Fleetfoot,'  is  so  impatient,"'  he  continued. 
"  I've  had  a  pretty  tough  time  of  it  coming  from 
Bay  haven  ;  he  is  young  and  fresh." 

"  '  Fleetfoot/  what  a  pretty  name,"  and  for  the 
first  time  she  turned  to  give  the  animal  a  searching 
look.  "  You  should  call  him  '  Rubicon  '  after  to- 


X6  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

day,  because  he  has  crossed  the  small  stream  coming 
from  the  sea.  The  water  we  came  through  will  do 
for  the  '  Rubicon/  and  you,"  she  hesitated,  "  can 
be  Caesar  :  you  are  as  courageous  as  he." 

A  smile  broke  over  his  countenance  at  her  words, 
that  fascinating  smile  which  had  won  more  hearts 
than  gold. 

As  she  spoke  something  hot  and  moist  licked  her 
hand,  and  she  turned  round  to  see  a  large  dog  close 
upon  her. 

"Oh,  you  beauty!"  she  exclaimed,  with  sudden 
joy  in  her  voice.  "  I  suppose  he  belongs  to  you  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  his  name  is  '  Athol.'  He's  a  splendid 
beast.  Are  you  fond  of  dogs  ?  " 

"  Very,  but  I  don't  think  you  can  be,"  she  answered 
shyly.  "  I  saw  you  strike  him  with  the  whip  ;  his 
cry  of  pain  came  to  me  on  the  rock,  and  poor  '  Fleet- 
foot,'  you  lashed  him  cruelly — oh,  it  was  horrible, 
horrible  !  "  and  she  shuddered  as  she  spoke. 

"I  am  afraid  young  ladies  don't  quite  understand 
horses  with  vile  tempers,"  he  remarked  severely. 
"Do  not  you  think  a  human  life  is  of  more  con- 
sequence than  that  of  a  horse?  Could  I  have  let  you 
drown,"  he  added  more  gently,  "because  my  horse 
refused  to  take  the  water  ?  '  Fleetfoot '  or  '  Rubicon ' 
as  you  wish  him  called,  must  obey  his  master." 

She  felt  somewhat  nettled  by  his  manner,  and  yet 
she  was  captivated  by  his  strong  will  and  absolute 
power. 

"  I  do  not  wish  him  called  '  Rubicon/"  she  replied 
quietly.  "You  must  think  me  very  rude  to  have 
suggested  a  change  in  the  name  of  your  horse,  but  I 
do  think  he  could  have  crossed  the  stream  just  as 
easily  had  you  shown  him  more  mercy.  Shakespeare 
says  :  '  Mercy  becomes  the  monarch  better  than  his 
crown.'  Do  you  ever  read  Shakespeare  ?  " 

"I  have  no  time,  Mademoiselle;  I  wish  I  had,"  he 
replied  gravely. 

"  I  always  carry  a  tiny  copy  of  one  of  his  plays," 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  17 

and  she  pulled  one  from  her  pocket  as  she  spoke  and 
held  it  up  for  his  inspection. 

"  May  I  look  at  it?"  He  took  it  from  her,  and 
then,  as  if  by  accident,  he  turned  to  the  fly-leaf  and 
read  her  name,  Leila  Gurney. 

She  watched  him  as  he  turned  the  wet  leaves  back- 
wards and  forwards,  his  diamond  ring  flashing  in  the 
light,  and  a  pale  flush  spread  over  her  face.  She  had 
forgotten  her  name  was  in  the  book,  but  it  was  too 
late  now — he  had  seen  it. 

"Thank  you,"  he  added,  as  he  handed  her  back 
the  tiny  volume.  "Do  you  often  come  clown  here 
by  the  sea?  It  must  be  nice  in  the  early  morning, 
cool  and  refreshing." 

"Yes,  I  come  every  day,  but  generally  in  the  after- 
noon, never  in  the  morning." 

Unsuspectingly  she  had  given  the  man  just  the 
information  he  wished  for,  and  to  his  next  question 
she  replied  just  as  truthfully. 

"You  live  in  this  place  I  suppose?" 

"No,  I  am  here  for  the  summer.  I  lodge  at  Green's 
cottage  up  in  the  village,  but  it  is  dreadfully  dull," 
she  added  sadly.  "I  have  no  friends — not  even  a 
dog  or  a  horse — not  a  soul  with  whom  I  can  exchange 
ideas.  It  is  miserable." 

"I  am  sure  it  must  be,"  he  replied.  "You're  very 
young  to  be  so  much  alone." 

She  rose  from  the  boulder,  caressing  the  dog  as 
she  did  so.  She  paused  and  looked  seawards.  The 
Nab's  Head  could  not  be  seen  now.  A  grey  mist  was 
skimming  along  deep  down  on  the  horizon,  and  the 
ships  with  their  brown  saijs  looked  like  big  birds 
with  expanded  wings  against  the  sky. 

Nearer  to  the  shore  the  sun's  rays  were  steeping 
the  clouds  with  gold,  and  breasting  the  waves  with 
colour,  making  their  edges  glittering  and  ruddy. 

"  Well,  good-bye,"  and  once  again  she  put  out  her 
hand,  "good-bye,  and  thank  you  a  thousand  times 
for  saving  my  life.  I  only  wish  I  could  give  you 

2 


X8  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

some  recompense  for  all  you  have  done,  but  I  own 
nothing  of  value  that  I  could  offer  you.  I  wish  I 
did." 

He  took  her  hand  gently,  a  thrill  went  through  her 
at  his  touch  ;  he  noticed  how  the  flush  rose  to  her 
cheeks  as  he  said  good-bye. 

Then  he  turned  towards  the  horse. 

"'Rubicon,'  we  must  go  home,"  he  said,  mount- 
ing quickly,  and  then  whistling  to  his  dog,  he  looked 
at  the  beautiful  girl  standing  on  the  shore. 

"Good-bye,  Mademoiselle,"  he  called,  and  lifting 
his  hat  he'rode  off  in  the  direction  of  the  town. 

What  a  change  had  come  over  her  life  in  those  few 
short  minutes,  and  as  she  hurried  to  her  cottage  home 
everything  seemed  brighter  and  more  cheerful.  Her 
life  hitherto  had  been  so  dull,  such  a  blank  that  any 
change  gave  her  intense  pleasure. 

This  stranger  had  come,  and. pleasant  visions  of  his 
fine,  handsome  face  and  gentle  manners  haunted  her 
thoughts  as  the  one  bright  star  of  her  life. 

Who  was  he,  she  wondered  ?  He  had  given  her  no 
clue,  not  even  his  name  ;  that  was  a  mystery  still 
unrevealed. 

With  half  rapture  and  half  sorrow  she  thought  of 
him,  for  her  heart  was  full.  Was  it  good-bye  for  ever, 
she  wondered  ? 

Shadows  and  dreams  of  happiness  had  made  up 
her  lonely  life  ;  this,  perchance,  was  only  the  flash  of 
a  meteor,  come  and  gone  and  lost  like  the  rest. 

Then  she  remembered  he  was  but  a  stranger. 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  19 


CHAPTER  II. 

W  H  A  N  K  S. 

QUIETLY  the  horse  wended  his  way  over  the  smooth, 
firm  sands.  He  might  have  been  riderless  for  the 
interest  that  was  taken  in  his  movements.  The  fright 
of  crossing  the  water,  together  with  the  severe  treat- 
ment he  had  undergone,  had  reduced  his  spirits  con- 
siderably, and  he  was  content  to  make  the  homeward 
journey  at  a  slow  pace.  His  master  could  have  been 
in  no  haste,  for  spur  and  whip  were  idle  for  once. 

The  rider's  thoughts  were  far  away  from  the  scene 
around  him.  He  had  for  a  time  forgotten  the  rippling 
waves  and  the  glories  of  the  summer  evening.  He 
had  forgotten  his  horse  and  dog,  so  each  went  their 
own  way. 

Fancy  had  cast  her  glamour  over  him,  making 
futurity  more  bright  even  for  him.  Such  thoughts 
rarely  if  ever  came  to  gladden  his  life.  Hope  had 
never  painted  unfading  happiness  in  his  mind,  and 
no  centre  of  special  love  had  made  his  life  an  earthly 
heaven. 

But  he  could  not  forget  the  bright,  beautiful  girl, 
with  her  wealth  of  short  golden  hair  falling  in  loose 
curls  around  her  shapely  head  ;  her  soft,  tender  eyes, 
raised  so  gently  when  she  spoke  ;  the  trusting,  win- 
some manner,  so  girlish,  so  exquisitely  natural. 

There  was  grace  in  every  action  of  the  supple  limbs, 
but  it  was  when  she  smiled  that  her  beauty  was  the 
most  attractive.  He  wondered,  if  she  was  so  beautiful 
now,  what  would  her  perfections  be  later  when 
maturity  had  completed  nature's  bounteous  gifts. 
How  grateful  she  had  been  to  him  for  saving  her  life, 
how  warm  in  her  gratitude  had  been  the  grasp  of  her 


20  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

tiny  hand.  Then  his  thoughts  wandered  to  her  lone- 
liness, and  he  wondered  gravely  why  she  was  friend- 
less amongst  strangers,  and  a  feeling  something  akin 
to  sympathy  came  over  him. 

His  heart  was  smitten,  his  admiration  grew  with 
his  thoughts  of  her,  his  passions  were  stirred  to  the 
very  depths  of  his  nature,  he  almost  loved  the  girl 
with  the  golden  hair.  He  must  see  her  again,  and 
that  soon.  He  must  learn  more  about  his  newly- 
found  friend.  Might  she  not  be  the  one  appointed  to 
gratify  the  one  ambition  of  his  hard,  stern  life?  He 
would  try  to  win  her  for  himself.  Yet  his  scheme 
might  fail.  The  girl  might  be  a  ward  in  Chancery, 
or  there  might  be  a  guardian  ready  to  put  his  foot 
down  to  prevent  the  girl  coming  to  meet  him.  If  she 
had  had  a  father  or  mother  surely  she  would  have 
mentioned  them  after  her  narrow  escape  from  death. 

She  was  a  lady,  he  was  sure  of  that,  although  her 
dress  was  simple  and  somewhat  shabby.  Perhaps 
she  was  alone  in  the  world — a  girl  with  an  income 
just  removed  from  starvation. 

Dwell  as  he  might  on  the  fairest  picture  his  life 
had  ever  seen,  deeper  grew  the  mystery  as  to  who 
could  be  the  lovely  girl  found  on  the  Nab's  Rock. 

Emilio  Castelli  was  by  profession  an  equestrian 
manager.  He  had  filled  that  position  for  years  in 
many  of  the  great  Continental  and  English  circuses. 
He  had  been  successful  in  all  his  undertakings,  and 
had  made  considerable  sums  of  money  from  time 
to  time.  He  was  now  equestrian  manager  and 
ringmaster  at  Deval's  Royal  Circus,  besides  which 
he  owned  a  troupe  of  performing  horses  which  were 
almost  world  renowned.  These  were  the  attraction 
which  filled  the  circus  at  every  town  they  visited, 
and  Castelli  drew  large  amounts  from  the  treasury 
every  week. 

He  was  a  man  who  understood  his  duties  thor- 
oughly, and  he  expected  those  brought  into  contact 
with  him  to  do  the  same.  Those  who  knew  him  in 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST.  2 1 

social  life  thought  him  cold,  unfriendly,  and  severe, 
and  he  was  no  favourite  with  the  artistes  or  those 
engaged  about  the  circus.  But  it  was  in  his  profes- 
sional capacity  that  his  full  force  of  character  was 
delineated.  If  one  of  his  equestrian  pupils  became 
faulty  in  his  tricks  the  dark  eyes  grew  brilliant  with 
suppressed  passion,  his  thin  lips  grew  set  and  white, 
his  face  became  crimson  and  then  pale,  and  great 
purple  veins  stood  out  on  his  broad  forehead.  Swift- 
ly and  with  force  he  would  raise  the  long-thonged 
whip  and  administer  cruel  castigation  for  very  slight 
errors. 

To  him  an  animal  quivering  with  pain  and  trem- 
bling with  anguish  was  no  uncommon  sight.  He 
was  hardened  to  the  cruelty  which  embittered  the 
lives  of  the  poor  weary  horses.  Their  tortures  and 
misery  were  nothing  to  him.  Did  they  not  bring 
him  gold?  In  his  capacity  as  ringmaster  he  showed 
little  mercy,  treating  men  and  women  with  the  same 
severity.  Once  when  a  great  lady  rider  had  come 
from  a  Continental  circus,  and  all  the  men  about  the 
place  raved  of  her  beauty  and  her  talents,  he  smiled 
at  their  infatuation  and  treated  the  fair  equestrian 
with  scanty  ceremony.  He  was  master  of  the  ring, 
and  he  made  her  understand  that,  and  none  dared  to 
dispute  his  right. 

But  a  simple  girlish  face  had  suddenly  impressed 
him,  and  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  a  woman's 
image  lived  in  his  mind  to  the  exclusion  of  all  else. 
Extremes  meet  in  some  natures,  and  with  a  mighty 
bound  invade  the  heart  with  great  force,  thus 
beginning  a  virtue  or  a  ^ce. 

Years  before,  Emilio  Uastelli  had  made  up  his 
mind  that  if  he  married  he  would  marry  a  lady,  a 
woman  far  removed  from  the  associations  of  the 
ring,  and  this  restless  ambition  had  increased  with 
time,  and  now  perhaps  the  opportunity  had  come 
and  the  Fates  would  be  propitious  and  give  him  the 
girl  he  had  rescued  from  the  waves.  But  his  train 


22  SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUS  T. 

of  happy  thoughts  were  interrupted.  The  horse 
stumbled  over  a  loose  stone,  and  with  an  oath 
Castelli  checked  him,  and  then  awoke  to  the  fact 
that  he  was  close  to  the  town.  He  pulled  out  his 
watch.  It  was  growing  late.  He  urged  the  horse 
on  more  quickly. 

"  If  I  am  not  there  to  the  moment,"  he  murmured, 
"  something  is  sure  to  go  wrong."  Up  the  crowded 
thoroughfare  he  rode,  never  slackening  his  speed 
until  he  reached  the  street  where  he  lodged. 
Suddenly  he  reined  in  his  horse,  for  in  the  roadway 
there  was  gathered  a  motley  crowd,  cheering  two 
men  who  stood  fighting  in  their  centre.  One  of 
them  fell,  and  his  antagonist  was  upon  him  in  a 
second.  The  roughs  grew  excited  and  yelled  out, — 

' '  Go  it,  Tim  !  Lay  on  to  him  !  Keep  him  down  ! 
You've  got  him  !  Give  him  gruel  !  " 

Sonae  of  the  onlookers  caught  sight  of  the  rider 
and  shouted  to  their  comrades, — 

"  Here's  the  boss  from  the  circus.  There'll  be 
a  darned  good  row  now.  Let's  clear  ojii." 

Some  of  the  wisest  followed  this  advice,  but  many 
lingered  to  "see  it  out." 

In  a  moment  Castelli  realised  that  one  of  his 
grooms  was  implicated  in  the  quarrel. 

"What's  all  this  about?"  he  shouted.  "Stand 
pn  one  side  or  I'll  ride  over  you,"  and  suiting  his 
ction  to  his  word  he  turned  his  horse  into  their 
midst. 

Scrambling,  fighting  for  the  path  to  ensure  their 
safety,  they  dispersed  rapidly,  but  the  two  men  still 
remained  in  the  road,  Tim  Baker  resolute  and  dogged, 
his  companion  lying  on  the  ground,  dust-begrimed 
and  without  his  hat. 

"  Get  up,  you  fool !  "  roared  Castelli.  "  Get  up  !  " 
The  man  looked  up  at  his  angry  master  and  tried  to 
rise.  "  And  clear  out  of  the  way,  you  blackguard  !  " 
he  hissed  as  he  turned  towards  Tim  Baker. 

"  The  road  ain't  yours,"  replied  the  man  sullenly. 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  23 

"  Your  groom  ain't  worth  punching.  Let  him  take 
that  and  be  ." 

He  raised  his  heavy  hobnailed  boot  to  kick  his 
opponent,  but  Castelli  was  too  quick  for  him. 

"  Oh,  that's  your  game,  is  it?  Kick  a  man  when 
he's  drunk,"  and  before  the  man  could  realise  his 
position  Castelli  had  seized  him  by  the  collar,  and 
lifting  him  off  his  feet,  swung  him  across  the  street, 
where  he  fell  into  the  gutter,  whilst  the  loafing 
crowd  cheered  heartily.  One  boy,  to  obtain  a  better 
view,  had  climbed  up  a  lamp  post,  and  called  out, 
"  There's  beauty  and  the  beast  on  a  'oss.  Three 
cheers  for  the  circus,"  after  which  refined  speech  he 
slid  to  the  ground. 

Castelli  rode  up  to  his  door  and  sent  a  boy  to  his 
landlady  to  tell  her  he  wanted  her  son  to  take  his 
horse  to  the  stables  at  the  circus.  Then  dismount- 
ing, he  waited  for  his  man,  who  was  coming* slowly 
up  to  where  he  stood. 

"  Is  the  dog  to  come  with  the  horse  ?"  asked  a 
youthful  voice  meekly,  as  if  afraid  to  venture  the 
question. 

"  No  ;  be  off,"  replied  Castelli  shortly.  "  So  you 
can  manage  to  walk  straight  now  your  master  has 
come  home,  can  you,  you  drunken  fool  ? "  he  said 
as  the  groom  approached  him.  "  Come  upstairs  to 
my  room." 

The  man  did  not  reply,  but  followed  his  master  to 
his  apartments. 

Castelli's  groom  and  personal  attendant,  known 
in  the  circus  by  the  name  of  Whanks,  was  a  great 
favourite  with  all  OF  them.  He  had  travelled  with 
many  of  the  large  circuses,  and  had  visited  all  the 
chief  European  cities.  When  he  had  been  engaged 
by  Castelli,  his  name  caused  much  amusement 
amongst  the  artistes  and  in  the  stables.  For  a  time 
he  put  up  with  the  banter,  and  then  one  evening 
he  told  a  group  of  his  fellows  why  he  was  called 
"  Whanks." 


24  SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST. 

"You  may  laugh  and  jeer  at  me,"  he  said,  "but 
there's  a  sad  reason  why  I  like  the  name.  Some 
years  ago  I  was  one  of  the  attendants  belonging  to 
a  celebrated  troupe  of  acrobats.  One  of  them,  a 
little  fellow,  became  awfully  fond  of  me — he  were 
a  wee  little  chap,  but  spry,  and  sharp  as  a  needle. 
Sometimes  I  would  take  him  oranges,  apples  or 
cakes  unbeknown  to  his  trainer.  One  day  after  a 
rehearsal  he  comes  to  me  and  says  :  '  Carl  '• — I  was 
Carl  then — 'Carl,  when  I  was  at  home  my  father 
called  me  'Whanks.'  I  loved  him  the  best  in  all 
the  world,  and  when  he  died  no  one  called  me 
'Whanks  '  again.  I  love  you,  Carl,  almost  as  much 
as  my  father  loved  me,  so  may  I  call  you  '  Whanks'  ? 
Poor  little  fellow,  he  was  only  nine  years  old,  but 
after  that  he  always  called  me  Whanks,  and  the  rest 
of  the  troupe  took  it  up.  One  night  when  the  'show' 
was  on  at  a  circus  in  Vienna  one  of  the  bars  snapped 
^nd  Franz  fell  with  a  thud  to  the  sawdust  beneath. 
He  never  moved,  but  lay  there  like  a  log.  They  car- 
ried him  out,  and  he  died  in  my  arms.  Once,  just 
before  the  last,  he  opened  his  eyes  and  said  feebly  : 
'Whanks,  am  I  much  hurt?'  That  was  the  only 
time  he  spoke.  You've  jeered  at  the  name  a  goodish 
deal,  but  maybe  you  will  not,  now  you  know  ftow  I 
got  it." 

The  grooms  and  stablemen  turned  away,  and  one 
or  two  of  them  murmured  "  Poor  little  chap  !  "  Soon 
the  story  spread,  and  no  smile  or  sneer  ever  be- 
trayed itself  to  the  owner  of  the  dead  child's  name. 

Whom  Castelli's  Whanks  had  originally  been  no 
one  knew.  He  never  mentioned,  within  anyone's 
recollection,  either  his  father  or  mother,  or  where  he 
had  been  brought  up.  The  only  relation  he  ever 
spoke  of  was  an  aged  aunt,  who  had  promised  to 
leave  him  what  little  money  she  possessed,  together 
with  her  cottage  and  effects,  and  of  this  small  pros- 
pective fortune  Whanks  was  never  tired  of  talking. 
It  was  his  one  thought,  his  daydream.  His  chums  in 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  25 

the  circus  were  delighted  to  stand  him  "drinks,"  for 
then  the  estimation  of  his  coming  wealth  rose  con- 
siderably, and  much  fun  they  had  at  the  expense  of 
him  and  his  money.  Unfortunately  these  drinks  be- 
came very  frequent,  and  his  master  had  often  threat- 
ened to  discharge  him.  But  when  he  was  sober  he 
was  so  useful  and  handy  that  he  was  forgiven  and 
retained.  His  love  for  children  and  animals  was 
excessive,  and  many  a  weary  apprentice,  both  boys 
and  girls,  owed  a  debt  of  gratitude  to  Whanks  for 
little  acts  of  kindness  shown  them  at  their  rehear- 
sals. Every  horse  and  dog  at  the  circus  loved  him, 
and  even  "Bruin  "was  more  tractable  with  him, 
and  often  when  the  great  rough  bear  refused  to  enter 
the  ring  to  practise  his  tricks  VVhanks  was  called  upon 
to  induce  him  to  do  as  he  was  bidden,  and  the  ani- 
mal became  at  once  more  docile.  Thus  it  was  that 
Whanks  was  too  handy  about  the  place  to  be  dis- 
missed. 

Castelli  knew  bis  worth,  but  he  never  let  his  man 
forget  that  he  was  master,  and  never  spared  him  for 
the  sake  of  past  good  services. 

When  they  reached  Castelli's  apartments,  his 
master  laid  his  riding-whip  on  the  table,  and  then 
turning  to  his  man,  fiercely  asked,  — 

"What  the  devil  do  you  mean  by  getting  tight? 
Can't  I  leave  you  for  an  hour  without  your  running 
to  the  'pub,'  you  besotted  fool?  The  sooner  you 
clear  out  of  our  show  and  drink  yourself  to  death 
the  better  !  "  and  he  threw  a  look  of  disgust  and  con- 
tempt upon  the  shrinking,  shamefaced  man  before 
him. 

"I  couldn't  help  myself,  sir,  indeed  I  couldn't. 
Even  when  I  got  outside  that  blessed  'pub  '  I  says, 
'No,  I  won't  go  in,'  and  the  rest  says,  'Whanks, 
a  man  !  '  I  — 


"A  man,  indeed,"   broke    in  Castelli  ;    "a  beast, 
you  mean." 

"  Begging  your  pardon,  sir,  I  says  to  them,    'Not 


26  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

to-day,  mates,'  and  was  a-moving  off  when  one  of 
our  stablemen  says,  'One  drink  can't  hurt  you, 
Whanks,  unless  you're  a  fool.'" 

"Just  what  you  are,"  replied  Castelli  severely. 

"1  can't  help  it,  sir;  them  men  worrits  my  life  out 
All  day  long  it's  '  Whanks,  come  here  or  go  there 
and  give  us  a  help,'  till  I'm  bio  wed  if  I  knows  what 
I  am  doing." 

"You  know  the  way  to  that  accursed  bar  fast 
enough.  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself,  get- 
ting drunk  and  fighting  in  the  street  ;  you're  a  dis- 
grace to  the  show.  What  do  you  suppose  will  be 
the  end  of  it  ? " 

"I  wish  I  could  tell  you,  sir,  but  I  can't,  so  there's 
an  end  to  that.  I  makes  up  my  mind  I'll  never  take 
another  glass,  and  I  says  to  myself,  '  I'll  never  get 
drunk  again,  never,'  and  then  someone  comes  along 
friendly  like  and  I  goes  as  far  as  the  '  pub  '  corner 
with  them,  and  they  persuades  me  against  my  will, 
sir,  to  have  just  one  glass,  and  all  of  a  sudden  like  I 
feels  like  as  if  I  was  swimming  in  the  sea,  and 

The  sea — that  recalled  the  bright  vision  of  the 
afternoon  to  Castelli's  mind,  and  he  exclaimed 
angrily, — 

"  Here,  stop  that  infernal  rubbish,  and  do  not 
quote  the  sea  to  me.  You  tell  me  you  can't  help  get- 
ting drunk,  but  look  here,"  and  he  stepped  quite  close 
to  him,  "  look  here,  you  idiot,  mark  my  words,  let 
me  catch  you  drunk  once  again  and  out  you  go  neck 
and  crop,  remember  that ;  and  now  be  off  to  your 
work,  you  lazy,  good-for-nothing  loafer." 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  sir,"  replied  the  man  in  a  peni- 
tent tone,  and  something  like  tears  glistened  in  his 
eyes.  When  I  get  my  aunt's  money  I  shall •" 

"You  and  your  blessed  aunt  go  to  blazes.  Be  off, 
I  tell  you,  or  I  will  fling  you  down  the  stairs.  Go," 
he  roared,  "do  you  hear?" 

The  man  walked  to  the  door,  and  then  he  turned  a 
pathetic  face  to  his  infuriated  master. 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  27 

' '  You  won't  send  me  away  this  time,  sir,  will  you  ? " 
he  pleaded.  "  I  couldn't  leave  you  and  the  horses 
and  the  old  place.  I'll  never  get  drunk  again,  sir, 
never. " 

"Once  more,  will  you  be  gone,  and  shut  the  door 
after  you,  if  you  are  sober  enough." 

Whanks  closed  the  door,  and  as  he  walked  slowly 
down  the  stairs  he  took  a  red  handkerchief  from  his 
pocket  and  wiped  away  the  tears  that  ran  down  his 
cheeks.  "The  master's  right,  I  am  a  fool.  I've  only 
got  what  I  deserved  ;  bul  I  can't  leave  him,  somehow. 
I  can't,  although  his  tantrums  are  awful  to  put  up 
with.  If  I  had  only  got  my  aunt's  money  I'd  never 
ask  him  for  another  blessed  quid,  but  I'd  stay  on  at 
the  show  all  the  same." 

He  sighed,  and  went,  heavy-hearted,  to  his  work. 
His  "chums"  noticed  his  downcast  looks,  and  they 
guessed  "there'd  been  a  jolly  big  row  between  him 
and  his  master,"  but  they  wisely  refrained  from 
alluding  to  the  subject. 

Castelli,  having  expended  his  wrath,  sat  down  to 
a  hurried  tea,  and  again  his  thoughts  went  back  to 
the  fair  girl  he  had  met.  He  could  not  forget  her  ; 
he  wondered  where  she  was,  what  she  thought  of 
him,  and  if  they  should  ever  meet  again. 

"It's  time  I  had  a  wife,  I  think,"  he  said  to  him- 
self. "  What  a  beastly  muddle  everything  is  in.  I'm 
sick  of  it  all." 

Certainly  his  surroundings  were  not  very  pleasing 
to  the  eye — sofas  and  chairs  were  strewn  with  papers, 
circus  bills,  and  posters,  under  the  easy-chair  boots 
and  shoes  lay  thrown  together — it  was  plain  that  no 
one  ever  tried  to  give  the  place  a  look  of  home.  It 
was  unmistakably  "apartments  fora  single  gentle- 
man." 

Castelli  pushed  his  cup  from  him,  rose  from  the 
table,  lit  a  cigar,  and  started  for  the  circus.  In 
another  hour  a  delighted  audience  were  witnessing 
the  tricks  of  "  Castelli's  performing  horses,"  and 


28  SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST. 

admiring1  their  sleek  coats  and  wonderful  feats,  and 
a  buzz  of  delight  went  round  from  stalls  to  pit,  and 
pit  to  the  gallery.  Their  trainer,  too,  came  in  for  a 
share  of  the  admiration  so  lavishly  offered.  His 
winning  smile,  his  graceful  bearing,  his  fascinating 
manner  were  positive  pleasures  to  the  people,  and 
when  he  offered  some  sugar  to  his  horses  in  the  ring, 
and  spoke  to  them  so  gently,  he  received  a  perfect 
ovation,  and  then  he  looked  more  handsome  still 
with  a  flush  of  triumph  resting  on  his  face.  He  was 
so  kind  the  people  thought.  Had  they  forgotten  there 
was  another  picture  called  Behind  the  Scenes? 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  29 


CHAPTER  III. 

LOOKING  BACK. 

LEILA  GURNEY,  having-  got  rid  of  her  saturated  gar- 
ments, ,and  having  arrayed  herself  in  a  dressing- 
gown,  sat  down  in  a  low  chair  by  the  bedroom 
window.  The  afternoon  had  been  very  adventurous 
and  fatiguing,  so  she  wished  to  sit  quietly  for  a  time 
to  rest  and  think. 

Before  her  stretched  the  pretty  rustic  garden,  from 
whence  came  sweet  odours,  borne  on  the  summer 
air,  of  roses,  lilies  and  lavender.  Each  offered  their 
fragrance  and  their  beauty. 

Generally  these  gifts  of  the  bounteous  earth  had 
given  her  the  greatest  pleasure,  but  they  were  un- 
heeded now.  She  was  wondering  what  would  have 
been  said  had  her  dead  body  been  washed  up  on  the 
shore  at  &e  ebb-tide.  She  tried  to  picture  how  her 
father  would  have  received  the  news,  and  if  he  would 
have  cared  so  very  much.  Perhaps  he  would  have 
grieved  a  little  when  he  heard  she  was  dead.  Then 
her  thoughts  reverted  to  her  brother  Tom — dear,  faith- 
ful, loving  Tom  !  She  could  imagine  him  reading  her 
father's  letter  telling  him  of  the  accident,  and  in  foreign 
lands  alone  he  would  mourn  and  fret  for  a  sister  very 
dearly  loved.  It  was  the  one  joy  of  her  life  to  know 
how  his  heart  yearned  towards  her. 

More  serious  thoughts  followed,  and  she  leant  back 
in  her  chair  and  rested  her  head  upon  her  small 
white  hand.  Supposing  she  had  been  drowned, 
where  would  she  have  been  now?  It  was  difficult 
for  her  to  realise  what  the  boundary  between  life  and 
death  must  be.  She  could  form  no  idea  of  the  great 
void  where  the  soul  speeds  on  its  last  flight.  And 


j0  SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST. 

yet  how  near  she  had  been  to  that  awful  veil  which 
separates  this  world  from  the  realms  beyond  the 
grave.  She  shuddered  at  the  thought  of  the  stillness 
of  death,  of  her  youth  and  life  nearly  lost,  with  only 
eternity  in  all  its  vagueness  before  her  when  earthly 
hopes  had  perished. 

She  was  young  enough  not  to  wish  for  the  pure 
and  perfect  rest  of  heaven.  She  had  no  longing  for 
the  land  where  all  is  gladness  and  the  weary  cease 
to  sigh.  If  her  life  had  been  like  a  sail  in  a  storm, 
the  brightness  of  youth  had  made  happy  beams,  and 
she  had  no  wish  to  die.  How  thankful  she  was  that 
the  dark  cloud  which  overshadowed  the  future  had 
rolled  away  and  left  her  life — she  was  so  young  to 
die. 

There  had  been  times  when  Leila  Gurney  would 
have  resigned  her  life  without  a  sigh  ;  days  upon 
which  no  light  seemed  to  break  through  the  gloom  : 
hours  when  her  lonely  agony  seemed  too  intense  to 
be  borne.  She  would  have  left  life  in  those  days 
willingly,  but  now  she  was  changed.  Something 
seemed  to  have  come  over  her  suddenly,  just  as  the 
sun  shines  after  the  storm  has  passed. 

Was  not  this  change  due  to  the  young  and  hand- 
some man  who  had  inspired  her  with  such  admira- 
tion ?  To  herself  she  wondered  why  she  felt  so  inter- 
ested in  him,  and  why  she  could  not  forget  his 
gracious  smiles  and  kindly  words  of  sympathy. 

It  was  the  first  spark  of  love,  but  she  did  not  know 
it  as  yet,  when  it  was  a  pleasant  dream,  but  the  spell 
would  break  some  day,  and  the  bud  spread  and  open 
its  petals  to  the  light,  and  then  it  would  blossom  into 
all  the  beauties  of  true  love. 

But  she  would  have  smiled  if  Cupid  had  whispered, 
"it  is  Love." 

Leila  Gurney  was  just  eighteen  years  of  age;  her 
life  had  been  very  far  from  happy — trouble  had 
played  a  far  more  prominent  part  than  joy  or  inno- 
cent pleasures,  which  girlhood  has  the  right  to 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST.  3 1 

demand.  Her  father,  Charles  Gurney,  had  been  a 
very  prosperous  stockbroker,  living  in  a  good-sized 
house  in  Weymouth  Street,  Portland  Place.  When 
Leila  and  her  brother  Tom,  two  years  her  junior, 
were  children,  every  luxury  and  indulgence  was 
showered  upon  them  by  their  fond  father. 

He  had  been  past  middle  life  when  he  brought  his 
handsome  bride  to  Weymouth  Street.  But  no  young 
lover  could  have  bestowed  half  the  love  and  care 
upon  his  sweetheart  that  Charles  Gurney  did  upon 
his  young  wife.  Her  wishes  were  his  first  consider- 
ation, her  whims  and  fancies  the  pleasure  of  his  life 
to  gratify.  Nothing  was  too  much  trouble  to  win  her 
thanks,  or  gain  a  smile  from  her  lips.  He  was  blind 
to  all  her  faults,  and  when  he  came  to  find  that  she 
loved  pleasure-seeking  abroad  more  than  her  home, 
and  that  admiration  from  the  outside  world  delighted 
her  better  than  his  genuine  praise,  he  put  it  down 
to  being  "only  natural"  for  one  so  young  and  beau- 
tiful, and  he  consented  ungrudgingly  to  anything 
which  made  her  happy. 

She  was  his  life,  his  all,  and  when  a  daughter  was 
born  to  him*he  gave  it  none  of  the  affection  which  he 
considered  due  to  the  mother.  His  love  for  the 
child  was  great  because  it  was  hers,  'but  the  baby 
girl  must  not  steal  the  attention  which  belonged 
solely  to  her  mother.  Her  husband  had  wished  thac 
the  child  should  be  called  Ida,  because  it  had  been 
his  mother's  name,  and  her  memory  was  very  pre- 
cious to  him  ;  but  his  wife  had  fixed  her  mind  on 
Leila,  and  as  in  all  things  his  wife  had  her  way,  the 
child  was  christened  Leila.  Her  selfishness  was  so 
great  that  she  would  not  even  add  his  choice  of  a 
name  to  hers.  She  hated  the  idea  of  her  husband 
interfering;  besides,  what  was  his  mother  to  her? 
It  never  struck  her  that  love  for  the  son  should  surely 
engender  some  respect  for  the  woman  he  called 
mother.  In  spite  of  all  his  love,  and  care,  all  his 
efforts  to  make  her  life  one  perpetual  ray  of  sunshine, 


3 a  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

she  would  not  please  him  by  calling  her  child,  and 
his,  by  the  name  he  loved  so  dearly.  At  first  her 
refusal  vexed  him  considerably,  but  he  banished 
from  his  mind  any  unkindly  thoughts  which  arose. 
After  all,  a  woman  had  every  right  to  call  her  daughter 
by  the  name  she  liked  the  best,  and  Leila  was  very 
poetical  and  pretty,  and  so  the  shadow  passed  away. 
He  had  one  hope,  however,  and  that  was  that  the 
baby  girl  would  be  the  means  of  keeping  his  wife 
more  at  home.  He  was  so  fond  of  a  domestic  life 
that  the  constant  round  of  pleasures  had  become  the 
bane  of  his  existence.  But  the  advent  of  the  child, 
he  found,  made  no  difference  to  the  mother's  gay 
life,  and  when  two  years  afterwards  a  boy,  Tom, 
was  born,  to  his  inexpressible  grief  he  saw  the  two 
children  growing  up  left  entirely  to  the  charge  of 
servants. 

Graver  trouble,  however,  was  at  hand.  His  income, 
although  large,  was  not  sufficient  for  constant  ex- 
travagances, and  at  a  time  of  life  when  he  should  have 
been  enjoying  more  rest  he  had  to  redouble  his  ener- 
gies and  work  harder  to  meet  the  constant  demands 
made  upon  him  for  his  wife's  debts.  He  at  last  took 
a  partner  to  help  him,  and  for  a  time  matters  seemed 
brighter,  and  'Charles  Gurney  hoped  to  pull  another 
fortune  together,  for  the  sake  of  the  woman  who  kept 
him  toiling  that  she  might  spend  and  make  merry. 

But  a  very  dark  day  was  approaching,  a  day  when 
he  came  home  to  find  his  wife  gone — gone  to  her 
destruction  and  ruin,  desecrating  the  sacred  name  of 
wife,  and  leaving  a  curse,  and  a  shame  almost  too 
heavy  to  be  borne  by  the  husband  and  hapless 
children. 

She  had  chosen  in  preference  to  her  home,  and  to 
the  purity  of  his  love,  the  villainous  overtures  of  her 
husband's  partner.  The  tall,  handsome,  brilliant 
Herbert  Clifford  had  come  between  her  and  those 
who  had  loved  her  so  tenderly. 

With  winning  smiles  the  seducer  had  won  her  from 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  33 

her  vows,  he  had  flattered  her,  offered  her  false  words 
of  devotion.  It  was  nothing  to  him  that  she  was 
giving  up  home,  husband,  and  children.  He  did  not 
care  if  in  the  after  years  she  cursed  him  for  teaching 
her  to  sin.  She  would  be  disgraced  for  ever,  he  knew 
that,  but  the  pleasure  would  be  his,  the  penalty  hers 
alone. 

She  forgot  the  retribution  to  come.  His  fair 
speeches  made  her  forget  to  think  of  a  day  when  the 
villain  would  tire  of  his  victim,  and  leave  her  alone  to 
face  the  cruel  coldness  of  the  world — a  woman  branded 
with  shame  as  the  faithless  wife,  the  dishonoured 
mother. 

Lelia  Gurney  was  fifteen  years  of  age,  and  her 
brother  Tom  thirteen,  when  the  terrible  trouble  fell 
upon  them.  Both  were  old  enough  to  realise  the 
horror  of  their  position.  A  certain  sympathy  was 
bestowed  on  them  for  the  loss  of  their  mother,  but  it 
was  not  the  same  kind  of  feeling  which  neighbours 
show  them  when  death  has  left  children  to  mourn  for 
those  they  loved.  There  were  no  tender  words,  no 
shake  of  the  hand,  no  eyes  dimmed  with  tears,  and 
no  offers**of  help  were  made  to  the  lonely  girl  and 
boy. 

The  people  who  had  been  such  dear  friends  of  their 
mother  were  very  sorry  for  them,  but  they  kept  aloof 
themselves,  and  took  care  that  their  children  did  the 
same.  % 

These  slights  wounded  Lelia's  and  Tom's  sensitive 
natures  most  cruelly,  and  to  avoid  the  gaze  of  the 
curious  they  sat  together  alone,  and  only  ventured 
out  when  the  stars  shone  and  the  darkness  grew  over 
the  great  city.  Their  father's  love  for  his  erring  wife 
turned  to  the  bitterest  hate  ;  the  channels  of  his  heart, 
through  which  such  adoration  had  coursed,  were 
choked  with  anger,  disappointment,  and  revenge. 
He  had  been  so  devoted  to  her  that  the  loss  seemed 
doubly  cruel.  She  had  deserted  him  after  all  the 
sacrifices  he  had  made  for  her  happiness. 

3 


34  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

He  never  attempted  to  trace  the  fugitives  ;  he  lost 
heart,  health,  and  spirits.  His  business  grew  neg- 
lected, he  showed  no  more  love  for  home  or  children, 
he  cared  no  longer  how  his  affairs  went.  Was  he  not 
disgraced  in  the  eyes  of  all  the  world  ?  But  there 
was  one  feeling  which  remained — a  feeling  of  revenge, 
if  such  it  could  be  called.  His  wife  had  dishonoured 
him  and  left  him  for  another,  but  that  other  should 
never  be  able  to  bestow  his  name  upon  her ;  such  as 
she  had  become  she  should  remain  to  the  end  of  her 
life.  He  would  not  divorce  her,  he  would  not  give 
her  her  freedom.  She  had  brought  shame  on  the 
name  of  Gurnev,  let  her  bear  it  and  no  other  to  her 
death,  and  to  this  resolve  he  was  steadfast. 

Matters  became  worse,  money  came  in  slowly, 
and  then  he  called  his  girl  and  boy  together  and  told 
them  he  was  a  ruined  man,  that  the  home  must  be 
broken  up  at  once,  that  delay  would  only  make  things 
worse  for  them  all,  and  that  Tom  could  not  return  to 
Harrow,  and  that  he  must  put  out  of  his  mind  all 
hopes  of  Oxford. 

A  few  days  later  they  bade  good-bye  to  the  only 
home  they  had  ever  known,  and  began  life  again  in 
a  country  cottage,  with  their  father  and  one  servant. 
Briarmill  was  a  lonely,  dull  spot,  far  away  from  the 
haunts  of  man.  There  they  could  eke  out  their  fallen 
fortunes  unknown  to  those  who  had  been  their  friends 
in  prosperous  days.  An  old  church,  an  ancient  gram- 
mar school,  and  a  cluster  of  houses  formed  the  small 
town,  if  it  could  be  called  by  such  a  name.  The 
inhabitants  had  known  each  other  all  their  lives,  and 
were  not  prepared  to  venture  on  acquaintance  with 
strangers.  This  suited  Charles  Gurney,  who  had  be- 
come morose  and  gloomy — sitting  hours  in  the  tiny 
garden  smoking,  and  never  addressing  a  word  to  those 
about  him.  Fortunately  for  his  children  the  greatest 
love  existed  between  them,  and  they  helped  each  other 
to  bear  their  troubles  bravely.  Tom  was  sent  to  the 
grammar  school  by  his  father,  but  Leila  was  left  to 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  35 

her  own  devices  until  the  evening-,  when  her  brother 
devoted  his  time  to  her  education. 

But  after  a  while  the  story  of  his  mother's  sin 
leaked  out,  and  his  schoolfellows  chaffed  him  con- 
tinually. Being  proud  and  haughty,  he  resented 
this  treatment.  One  day  the  affair  came  to  a  crisis. 
He  turned  on  his  tormentors,  and  fought  for  his 
name  and  his  honour.  One  boy  in  particular,  the 
bully  of  the  school,  came  in  for  such  treatment 
at  Tom's  hands  as  he  had  never  experienced  before. 
He  did  not  appear  at  school  again  for  a  week,  but 
Charles  Gurney  was  requested  to  remove  his  son 
from  the  school. 

For  months  after  this  Tom  wandered  about  at 
home  utterly  miserable  and  sick  at  heart.  At  last  he 
wrote  to  an  old  Harrow  schoolfellow,  whose  father 
was  a  Transvaal  merchant  and  had  started  a  store  at 
Malan,  on  the  road  from  Durban  to  Pretoria.  This 
merchant  knew  the  actual  position  of  the  youth,  and 
felt  keenly  for  his  sufferings.  Thinking  he  would  do 
better  away  from  surroundings  which  made  him 
dwell  on  his  family  disgrace,  he  offered  to  take  him 
as  an  assistant  to  his  manager  at  the  store,  where 
everything,  from  a  drink  to  a  pair  of  boots,  was  sold 
to  the  Boers  and  travellers. 

When  Charles  Gurney  was  asked  if  he  could  spare 
his  son  he  replied  in  the  affirmative,  but  with  such 
careless  grace  was  the  consent  given  that  Tom  felt 
his  absence  would  be  a  pleasure  rather  than  a  pain 
to  his  father.  He  knew  why,  for  often  in  the  glad 
days  he  had  proised  Tom  for  his  likeness  to  his 
mother.  "You're  more  like  her,"  he  would  say, 
"than  your  sister.  Just  her  eyes  and  expression, 
Tom,  my  boy. " 

Was  it  any  wonder  that  his  father  no  longer  wished 
that  ever-living  picture  to  be  daily  before  him,  remind- 
ing him  of  his  beautiful  wife,  now  worse  than  dead 
to  him  ? 

Before  Tom  sailed  he  made  his  sister  a  vow  that, 


36  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

if  he  lived  so  long,  he  would  come  home  when  he 
was  older  and  take  revenge  on  the  man  who  brought 
about  the  ruin  of  all  their  hopes  and  happiness. 

After  her  brother  had  left  Leila  began  to  droop. 
She  became  tired  and  weary  of  the  awful  monotony, 
worse  a  thousand  times  since  Tom  had  gone  ;  there 
were  no  long  walks  for  her  now,  all  day  she  wan- 
dered about  alone.  Her  father  never  talked  to  her, 
indeed  he  seemed  to  ignore  her  presence.  At  last  she 
grew  so  ill  and  weak  as  to  attract  the  attention  of  the 
doctor,  who  had  been  called  in  to  see  her  father 
upon  two  occasions. 

"Gurney,  if  you  don't  send  your  daugher  to  the 
seaside  I  am  afraid  she  will  go  into  a  decline  ;  her 
case  seems  to  me  critical.  Can't  you  manage  it?  " 

So  spoke  Dr.  Burton  one  fine  sunny  day  in  early 
June. 

"It's  no  use  telling  me  that,"  replied  Charles  Gur- 
ney. "I've  no  one  to  send  her  with,  and  then  it  is 
expensive,  and  my  income  is  so  very  limited.  I 
can't  do  it,  doctor,"  he  continued  irritably. 

"I  am  afraid  you  will  have  to  use  your  income  to 
bury  her,  then,  very  shortly,  and  as  to  having  no  one 
to  send  her  with,  I  can  manage  that.  Let  her  go  to 
Sandcliffe  ;  it's  a  quiet  place,  and  she  can  have  rooms 
with  an  old  servant  of  mine  who  is  married  and  has 
a  pretty  cottage  there.  My  wife  and  the  little  ones 
went  there  two  years  ago ;  everything  is  cheap, 
clean,  and  comfortable.  May  I  arrange  that,  Gur- 
ney, so  as  to  save  you  time  and  trouble? " 

He  pleaded  hard  for  the  delicate,  lonely  girl  who 
was  fretting  her  life  away  in  such  uncongenial  sur- 
roundings. 

"If  you  like  to  take  the  trouble,  of  course  you 
can.  I  sha'n't  I  should  think  there's  too  much  of 
the  mother  in  the  girl  to  make  it  desirable  to  send 
her  away  alone  to  the  seaside,"  he  added  ungra- 
ciously. 

So  it  was  decided,  and  a  few  days  later  she  was 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WD  US  T.  37 

enjoying  the  bracing  air  of  Sandcliffe,  happier  in 
mind,  healthier  in  body.  She  had  written  to  Tom 
such  a  long  letter,  and  sent  him,  with  her  love,  five 
pounds,  just  half  the  cheque  put  into  her  hands  by 
the  good  doctor's  wife  the  day  she  left. 

"There  are  lots  of  little  things  you  may  need,  my 
dear,"  Mrs.  Burton  had  said,  "and  that  will  make 
you  less  troublesome  to  your  father." 

The  girl  had  blushed,  stammered  her  thanks,  and 
shed  a  tear  or  two  at  the  unexpected  kindness,  and 
gone  her  way — a  way  so  free,  so  unfettered,  that 
health  and  spirits  would  soon  return  to  the  young 
life,  at  least  so  the  doctor  and  his  wife  hoped,  for 
they  pitied  her  deeply. 

But  father  and  friends  were  soon  to  be  forgotten. 
Had  not  a  bright  star  arisen,  which  lighted  her  path 
and  left  all  else  in  gloom  ?  It  shone  upon  her  mind, 
her  heart,  her  very  inmost  soul.  She  could  see  noth- 
ing else,  think  of  nothing  but  the  radiant  future  before 
her. 

But  the  star  might  wane,  and  what  of  the  darkness 
then  ?  Would  it  not  be  terrible  after  the  shining 
light?  „ 

It  shone — she  never  dreamt  of  the  waning. 


38  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

MAKING  AN  ENEMY. 

THREE  or  four  weeks  had  sped  their  course  since 
Leila  had  been  rescued  from  the  Nab's  Head  Rock. 
To  her  it  had  been  a  very  happy  time,  for  Castelli 
had  been  her  daily  companion.  Somehow  or  other 
he  had  found  out  the  time  of  her  strolls,  and  when- 
ever possible  had  ridden  over  to  Sandcliffe.  It  was 
an  acquaintance  which  grew  unconsciously  ;  their 
appreciation  of  each  other's  society  had  so  far  been 
of  a  tacit  nature. 

She  had  been  so  lonely,  so  weary  of  her  monot- 
onous life  that  she  had  come  to  recognise  him  as  a 
delightful  companion.  It  was  so  pleasant  to  have 
someone  to  make  her  a  consideration  and  to  plan 
pleasures  to  cheer  at  least  some  hours  of  the  solitary 
days. 

One  August  morning  he  had  ridden  over  on  Rubi- 
con, bringing  with  him  Athol  and  Whanks.  When 
he  arrived  at  Sandcliffe  sands  he  dismounted,  and 
calling  his  dog,  he  dispatched  Whanks  with  the 
horses  to  the  village  inn,  then  he  sauntered  along  the 
beach  to  the  trysting  place.  She  was  there  before 
him.  Truly  she  was  a  picture  fit  for  the  canvas  of 
some  great  artist,  he  thought,  as  he  advanced  to- 
wards her,  with  her  plain  dress  of  pure  white,  unre- 
lieved by  colour  excepting  a  bunch  of  crimson  roses 
placed  in  her  girdle,  and  her  large  hat.  with  the 
golden  curls  just  resting  on  her  classic  brow. 

He  thought  her  most  beautiful  as  she  came  for- 
ward to  meet  him,  with  a  blush  mantling  her  happy 
face,  and  giving  a  lustre  to  her  wondrous  eyes. 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 


39 


He  would  like  to  have  kissed  her,  but  he  con- 
trolled the  wish. 

"Good-morning,  Leila."  He  raised  his  hat,  and 
gave  her  one  of  his  winning  smiles,  as  he  gazed  at 
her  with  fond  admiration.  "I  have  not  kept  you 
waiting.  I  want  a  long  chat  with  you  to-day. 
What  do  you  say  if  we  stroll  on  towards  the  Downs? 
Are  you  tired  ?  " 

"Oh,  no,"  she  replied  gleefully,  for  was  not  the 
prospect  of  a  walk  with  him  the  one  bliss  of  her 
cheerless  life.  "But  where  is  Rubicon,"  she  added 
suddenly.  "  Have  you  and  Athol  walked  from  Bay- 
haven  ?  What  a  lovely  creature  he  is.  I  love  him 
so  much." 

"Do  you?"  he  asked,  smiling  again.  "'Athol' 
is  lucky  to  have  won  your  love,  but  you  see  he  is 
crab  hunting  now,  and  I  fear  does  not  appreciate  the 
honour  as  much  as  he  should.  My  groom  has  Rubi- 
con up  at  the  inn.  I  wanted  to  be  free  to-day.  In 
the  meantime  he  will  have  a  feed  of  corn  before  his 
journey  home." 

Together  on  the  shingly  beach,  under  the  steep 
rugged  cliffs  they  sauntered,  he  holding  her  hand  for 
fear  she  slfbuld  trip.  Suddenly  he  paused. 

"Leila,  let  us  sit  down."  There  was  something 
unusual  in  his  tone,  and  she  looked  up  into  his  face. 
She  saw  then-  how  grave  he  was.  They  sat  on  a 
flat  water-worn  stone,  and  then  he  explained  to  her 
very  gently  who  he  was,  and  his  occupation.  She 
listened  attentively,  and  he  was  delighted  to  find 
that  her  smile  did  not  fade,  that  no  disappointment 
or  disgust  overshadowed  her  face.  When  he  ceased 
speaking  she  replied, — 

"  How  clever  you  must  be  to  ride  in  a  circus.  I 
have  been  to  several,  but  not  since  I  grew  up.  May 
I  come  to  Bayhaven  and  see  the  circus  there,  and 
all  your  horses?  I  should  so  enjoy  it,"  she  added 
with  emphasis. 

"Some  day,  Leila.     You   must  wait  just  a  little 


40  SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST. 

while.  You  see  there  is  no  train  to  bring  you  home. 
It  must  be  some  time  when  I  can  drive  you  back. 
Would  you  like  that  ? " 

"  Yes,"  she  answered  quietly. 

His  voice  sounded  like  music  to  her  ears,  so  rich, 
so  gentle,  yet  so  firm  and  kind. 

"  Leila,"  he  continued,  "  I  have  grown  very  fond 
of  you,  very  fond,  and  knowing  that  I  belong  to  a 
circus,  do  you  think  you  could  return  me  some  affec- 
tion, or  would  my  profession  debar  me  from  all  such 
hope?  All  my  future  happiness  depends  upon  your 
reply.  In  society,  I  know,  we  are  counted  as  out- 
casts, but  we  have  hearts,  all  the  same,  and  can  love 
despite  the  sawdust  and  the  ring." 

He  stopped  speaking  and  looked  to  see  what  effect 
his  words  had  upon  his  lovely  companion.  He 
showed  none  of  the  nervousness  of  an  ardent  love. 
He  waited  her  reply  calmly,  and  with  a  quiet  dignity 
worthy  of  a  king. 

She  did  not  answer  for  a  moment,  but  her  cheeks 
grew  crimson,  and  she  toyed  restlessly  wjth  some 
stones  she  had  picked  up  whilst  he  was  speaking. 

"There  is  nothing  wrong  in  being  engaged  in  a 
circus,  is  there?"  she  asked  archly.  "I  should  like 
it  beyond  anything.  I  love  horses  and  riding,  but," 
and  she  became  very  shy,  "  I  do  like  you  very,  very 
much." 

He  kissed  her  as  she  spoke,  and  she  did  not 
resist  it. 

"Can  you  change  'like'  into  'love,'  Leila?  "he 
asked.  "  That  is  what  I  want  to  know." 

"Yes,"  she  answered,  getting  still  more  confused, 
"but " 

"But  what,  my  beauty?"  he  asked,  putting  his 
arm  around  her  and  drawing  her  closer  to  him. 

"  There's  Tom,"  she  added.  "  I  always  tell  Tom 
everything.  You  know  how  I  love  him,"  she  said 
simply. 

He  had  foreseen  this  difficulty  and  had  his  reply 
ready. 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  41 

"Don't  you  think  Tom  would  be  glad  to  hear  you 
were  comfortably  married?  Do  you  not  suppose  it 
would  be  a  great  anxiety  off  his  mind  to  know  his 
sister  was  happy  ?  Leila,  he  would  advise  you  to 
marry  the  man  you  love  if  he  were  here.  That 
should  be  sufficient  guide  for  you." 

•'But  I  should  like  to  ask  him  before  I  decide  to 
return  your  love.  I  must  write  to  Tom,  indeed  I 
must." 

"  Leila,  dearest  Leila,  won't  you  be  my  wife,  and 
let  me  care  for  you  and  love  you?  It  will  be  time 
enough  to  tell  Tom  and  your  father  when  we  are 
man  and  wife." 

She  shook  her  head  gravely. 

"  It  will  not  do.  I  could  not  deceive  Tom  for  all 
the  world." 

"Is  that  your  determination?"  he  asked  her 
severely. 

She  noticed  the  change  in  his  voice,  but  she  held 
firmly  to  her  desire. 

"Yes,  I  am  quite  determined,  quite.  I  can  do 
nothing  without  Tom's  advice." 

"So  you  will  risk  my  happiness  and  yours  for  the 
sake  of  a  boy's  opinion.  He  cannot  know  what  is 
best  for  you.  Once  more,  my  darling,  will  you  be 
my  wife?" 

"  If  Tom  says  'Yes,'  "  she  replied  resolutely. 

He  knew  she  was  too  fond  of  him  to  withstand  his 
offer  very  long.  He  must  marry  her  before  her 
brother  or  father  got  any  idea  of  the  affair  or  he  felt 
sure  she  would  never  be  his  wife  at  all.  He  must 
use  diplomacy  in  the  matter  at  once  or  he  would 
lose  the  chance  within  his  grasp. 

"  So  you  won't  trust  me,''  he  replied  sternly,  get- 
ting up  from  his  seat.  "  If  you  loved  me  as  I  love 
you  no  one  in  the  world  would  stand  between  us. 
I  am  terribly  hurt,  Leila.  All  the  joy  has  gone  out 
of  my  life." 

"Don't  say  that,   Emilio,   please  don't,"  and  she 


42  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

rose  and  stood  by  his  side.      "  Don't  be  vexed  with 
me,  but  I  love  Tom  so  much." 

"  Better  than  you  do  me,  that  is  plain  enough. 
Under  those  conditions  we  had  better  say  good- 
bye." 

He  turned  and  faced  her.  She  saw  how  white 
and  stern  he  looked,  and  she  already  repented  of  her 
words. 

"Is  it  to  be  good-bye?"  he  repeated,  somewhat 
gently.  "Is  it,  Leila?  " 

"No,"  she  added  sadly,  "no,  not  good-bye.  I 
could  not  bear  that ;  it  would  kill  me.  Don't  go. 
Emilk),  forgive  me." 

He  kissed  her  again  and  again,  and  in  the  first 
flush  of  her  youthful  love  she  promised  to  keep  Tom 
and  her  father  in  ignorance  of  her  engagement. 

She  was  so  inexperienced,  so  afraid  of  losing  the 
only  man  who  had  ever  loved  her,  and  there  was  no 
loving  motherly  hand  to  guide  her,  no  one  to  bid  her 
beware. 

"We  will  make  this  spot  a  rendezvous  for  the 
next  few  days,  Leila.  I  do  not  think  it  would  be 
wise  for  me  to  go  to  Green's  cottage  to  see  you,  but 
my  man  can  bring  you  messages  and  my  letters  to 
you  ;  the  replies  you  can  return  by  him.  It  is  best 
to  arrange  that,  then  there  will  be  no  curiosity  at 
the  post  office*  For  the  present  our  arrangements 
must  be  kept  dark,  for  your  sake,  do  you  understand 
me  ?  " 

"Yes, "she  replied  hesitatingly  ;  "but  whycannot 
you  call  on  me?  My  cousin 'sfianci  always  came  to 
dinner  and  tea,  and  spent  long  evenings  with  her, 
and,  anyhow,  your  man  will  know  me  if  he  comes 
to  the  house." 

"Your  cousin  did  not  live  alone,  darling,  as  you 
do,  and  as  for  my  man,  well,  he  will  be  sworn  to 
secrecy.  He  will  have  full  directions  to  ask  for  you 
and  come  straight  up  into  your  sitting-room.  Do 
not  fear  him,  he  is  safe  enough;  but  do  not  offer 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST. 


43 


him  beer  or  wine  on  any  account,  for  Whanks  is  too 
fond  of  his  glass." 

"  Whanks  !  what  a  name  !  " 

He  told  her  the  story  of  the  name  Whanks,  and 
she  sighed  and  determined  to  be  his  friend  even 
before  she  had  seen  him. 

"Well,  Lelia,  the  time  goes  on,  I  must  be  off. 
There's  an  afternoon  performance  and  I  am  due  at 
the  circus  at  half-past  two.  Good-bye,  my  darling, 
my  pet  !  Kiss  me  Lelia ;  you  are  mine  forever." 

What  a  glorious  light  came  into  his  dark  eyes  ! 
What  rapture  was  there  as  he  spoke  so  tenderly  and 
kindly  1  How  happy  she  was !  She  forgot  the  de- 
ception, the  vile  secrecy  imposed  upon  her.  Was 
not  his  love  all  the  world  to  her  ?  What  was  there 
she  would  not  have  done  to  win  his  smile? 

"Good-bye,  Emilio.  Will  you  take  this  rose  and 
wear  it  for  my  sake?"  She  pulled  the  only  white 
one  she  had  from  among  the  crimson.  "  I  love 
white  roses,  they  are  my  favourite  flowers.  I  will 
give  or  send  you  one  every  day.  Wrill  you  wear  it, 
dear  ?  " 

"Always,  darling.  Every  night  when  I  go  into 
the  ring  I  will  Mtear  your  love  token.  The  pure  rose, 
Leila,  shall  remind  me  of  your  promise  to-day.  I 
will  use  this  one  to-night ;  it  is  but  a  bud,  so  it  will 
not  fade  so  quickly  as  would  the  open  flower,  and 
to-morrow  you  will  send  me  another — is  that  so  ?  " 

"Yes,  every  day  until  the  months  of  roses  are 
over. " 

"By  that  time  I  hope  I  shall  have  claimed  my 
own  white  rose,"  and  he  kissed  her  most  affection- 
ately. 

He  took  the  flower  and  went  his  way. 

Her  love  was  in  the  beauty  of  its  prime,  her  joy 
ecstatic.  The  present  and  the  future  were  crowned 
with  glorious  hopes,  and  pictured  with  fond  de- 
light. 

But  hopes  are  sometimes  like  butterflies,  that  rise 


44  SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST. 

on  the  breath  of  fancy  whenever  the  sunbeams  lure 
them. 

Signer  Emilio  Castelli  was  happy  in  his  love  for 
Leila  Gurney.  He  had  been  engaged  to  her  nearly  a 
fortnight,  during  which  time  he  and  Whanks  had  paid 
many  visits  to  Sandcliffe.  It  wanted  nearly  half  an 
hour  before  the  evening  performance,  but  Castelli  had 
gone  to  the  circus  early  to  see  one  of  his  valuable 
horses  which  was  a  little  out  of  condition.  He  was 
sitting  in  a  small  office,  which  he  shared  with  two 
other  trainers,  thinking  of  Leila.  Outside  there  was 
heard  horses'  feet,  and  a  general  running  to  and  fro, 
then  an  angry  voice  was  raised  and  oaths  fell  plenti- 
fully, a  crack  of  a  whip  and  a  boy's  cry  of  pain. 
Castelli  was  used  to  such  things,  and  they  did  not 
dispel  his  thoughts  ;  he  was  in  no  hurry,  he  was 
already  dressed  for  the  ring  with  a  white  rosebud 
in  his  coat. 

Whilst  he  was  thinking  of  Leila,  "Cleo,"  the  cele- 
brated tight-rope  artiste,  was  wondering  why  Castelli 
had  changed  so  much  towards  her,  and  to-night  she 
had  determined  to  find  out.  She  sat  on  the  bare 
wooden  table  in  a  dressing-room  allotted  to  her  and 
a  female  acrobat.  Her  partner's  "turn"  did  not 
come  on  till  late,  so  Cleo  had  the  room  to  herself. 

She  was  a  fine,  handsome  woman,  about  twenty- 
five  years  of  age  ;  her  Spanish  blood  showed  in  her 
rich  dark  complexion  and  great  lustrous  eyes.  In 
figure  and  face  she  was  considered  beautiful,  whilst 
her  wit  and  repartee  had  made  her  a  great  favourite 
in  the  circus. 

Bayhaven  was  partial  to  equestrian  performances, 
and  the  circus  proprietor  had  put  up  a  temporary 
building  for  the  season,  and  to  it  flocked  both  resi- 
dents and  visitors. 

Cleo  had  attracted  a  great  deal  of  attention,  and  her 
"show"  had  been  one  of  the  successes  of  the  season. 
Three  years  before,  she  had  met  Castelli  in  a  circus  in 
Liverpool.  She  fell  desperately  in  love  with  him,  and 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST.  45 

for  a  time  he  seemed  to  return  it,  as  she  thought,  for  he 
humoured  her  fancies  and  spent  much  time  in  her 
company.  But  when  the  circus  closed  for  the  season, 
and  they  each  went  to  new  engagements,  she  was 
bitterly  disappointed  that  he  did  not  ask  her  to  be  his 
wife.  Castelli  had  never  dreamt  of  marrying  the 
"greatest  tight-rope  walker  in  Europe."  She  was 
beautiful,  it  was  true,  but  Vulgar,  coarse,  and  passion- 
ate, and  his  dreams  were  of  a  lady,  gentle  and 
refined. 

Cleo  threw  a  long  black  cloak,  lined  with  fur,  over 
her  bespangled  tights,  and  then  crossed  the  sawdust- 
spread  passage  to  Castelli's  room.  In  answer  to  his 
response  she  opened  the  door. 

"Halloa,  Castelli,  all  alone?  Did  you  ever  feel 
such  infernal  draughts  as  there  are  in  this  place? 
Matchbox  partitions,  nothing  but  matchbox,"  and  she 
closed  the  door  behind  her.  "My  gracious!  what 
is  that?  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Why,  if  it  ain't  a  dog 
tied  to  the  leg  of  the  table  !  Is  that  for  me,  Castelli  ? 
What  a  little  sight  to  be  sure  !  Oh,  I  suppose  it  is 
one  ofZaro's  performing  dogs,  is  it  ?" 

"No,  it's  mine,"  replied  Castelli,  not  too  well 
pleased  at  being  disturbed. 

"Yours,  thaf  fluffy  white  thing — where's  Athol 
then  !  " 

"At  home,"  he  replied  curtly. 

"I  say,  Castelli,  guess  what  I  have  got  for  you." 

"  I  can't  guess.      What  a  fool  you  are,  Cleo  ?  " 

"Oh,  that's  the  tone,  is  it?  You  want  to  be  off 
with  the  old  love,  do  you,  for  the  new?"  and  she 
laughed  impudently. 

She  had  been  sure  there  was  somebody  else  held 
in  preference  to  her,  for  Castelli  had  worn  the  same 
kind  of  flower  in  his  buttonhole  every  night.  She 
knew  some  lady  must  be  the  donor. 

"Be  quiet,"  he  exclaimed  angrily  ;  "you're  not 
the  old  love,  anyhow,  and  I'm  hanged  if  you  are  the 
new  ! " 


46  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

"Oh,  so  there  is  a  new,  is  there  ?  That's  the 
game  !  Who's  the  girl  ?  " 

Her  eyes  had  become  more  brilliant  as  she  spoke, 
and  Castelli  tried  to  turn  the  subject  off  with  a  joke. 

"  Well,  we  won't  quarrel,"  she  said,  assuming'  her 
natural  tone,  "will  we,  dear  ?  Now,  will  you  wear 
this  to  please  me  to-night?"  and  she  took  from  under 
her  cloak  a  buttonhole  of  exotic  flowers.  "  They 
will  suit  you  better  than  that  white  rose." 

She  held  it  towards  him,  but  he  refused  to  take  it 
from  her. 

"  I  shall  wear  the  one  I  have,  and  none  other,"  he 
said. 

In  a  moment,  like  a  flash  of  fire,  her  passion  and 
indignation  burst  forth. 

"Will  you?  I  vow  you  sha'n't,"  and  she  stepped 
close  up  to  him,  quivering  in  every  limb  with  violent 
excitement.  Before  he  was  aware  she  had  caught 
hold  of  his  coat  in  her  eager  desire  to  snatch  the 
flower  from  its  place.  In  an  instant  he  resisted  her 
with  all  his  great  physical  power  and  flung  her  from 
him. 

"What  she-cat  gave  you  those  roses?"  she 
screamed.  "You've  been  glad  enough  to  wear  my 
flowers  before  to-night.  I've  the  right  to  know  who 
gave  you  the  white  rose — tell  me,  do  you  hear,  you 
treacherous  man  ?  "  Her  breath  came  fast  and  strong 
as  she  gasped:  "Answer  me — do  you  understand 
me,  Castelli  ? " 

Her  face  was  distorted,  defiant,  and  maddened 
with  rage  ;  it  seemed  as  if  the  very  devil  was  before 
him.  The  flowers  she  had  brought  had  fallen  to  the 
ground.  He  saw  them  lying  there  in  all  their  deli- 
cate beauty,  but  ruthlessly  he  put  out  his  foot  and 
crushed  the  petals  into  a  shapeless  mass. 

"  There  are  your  flowers,  and  if  you  don't  get  out 
of  this  room  I'll  thrash  you  as  I  would  a  hound.  Get 
out,  or  by  heaven  I'll  keep  my  word  ! " 

"You  villain!     You  hypocrite  !     You " 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  47 

But  further  conversation  was  put  a  stop  to  by  the 
bell  ringing  for  the  first  turn.  He  put  her  out  of  his 
way  as  if  she  were  a  dog,  and  taking  up  his  long 
whip  from  the  table,  went  into  the  ring,  smiling  as 
he  did  so. 

Cleo,  left  alone,  foiled,  baffled,  and  exhausted, 
devoured  and  pained  by  jealousy,  was  convinced 
that  her  doubts  were  right,  and  that  Castelli,  the  only 
man  she  loved,  had  passed  her  by  for  another.  But 
how  could  she  prove  it  ?  That  was  the  difficulty. 
Sauntering  to  her  room,  she  saw  Whanks  standing 
helping  the  grooms  to  get  ready  Castelli's  performing 
horses.  In  a  moment  an  idea  struck  her.  If  she 
could  only  get  Whanks  on  her  side  the  rest  would  be 
easy  enough.  Her  passion  was  gone  now,  but  her 
eyes  still  retained  their  bright  steely  look,  as  if  a 
hidden  revenge  was  lurking  behind  her  artificial 
smile. 

She  went  up  to  Whanks  softly  and  asked, — 

"  Whanks,  shall  you  be  busy  to-morrow?" 

"  Depends  on  the  master,  miss.  I  might  have  a 
minute  or  so  to  spare.  I  ain't  sure.'' 

"  I  wish  you  would  come  round  to  my  place.  I 
want  a  job  done  to  some  rope.  Can  you  come,  do 
you  think  ?  "  «*  . 

"  I'll  do  my  best,  miss,  and  leastways  I  can  ask 
the  master,  when  he  comes  out  of  the  ring  after  the 
horses  has  performed,  and  let  you  know  what  time 
he  can  best  spare  me,  miss." 

Whanks  had  often  been  allowed  by  Castelli  to  do 
odd  jobs  for  Cleo,  and  so  the  request  did  not  astonish 
him. 

"  Don't  trouble  to  ask  your  master,  Whanks.  I'd 
rather  you  did  not.  Just  run  round  to  me  after 
morning  rehearsal  if  you  can." 

"  Right  you  are,  miss.  I'll  try  and  come  as  nigh 
to  one  o'clock  as  I  can,"  and  the  man  touched  his 
hat  respectfully. 

Castelli  passed  her  as  he  left  the  ring,  but  he  never 


48  SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST. 

glanced  at  her,  and  the  white  rose  was  still  in  his 
coat. 

"  To-morrow,  wait  until  to-morrow,"  she  mur- 
mured, "  and  I'll  find  out  his  game.  Trust  me  for 
that.  I'm  not  quite  the  fool  he  takes  me  for." 

She  had  planned  her  revenge. 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  49 


CHAPTER  V. 

ENVY   AND    HATRED. 

A  WEEK  had  passed.  Cleo  had  been  very  cautious 
in  all  her  plans.  Whanks  had  been  enticed  to  her 
rooms  under  various  pretexts.  She  had  given  him 
sufficient  to  drink,  but  not  enough  to  make  him 
intoxicated,  for  had  that  occurred  she  knew  that  his 
master  would  question  him,  and  that  would  ill  suit 
her  purpose. 

To  Castelli  she  was  particularly  attentive,  meet- 
ing him  with  a  smile,  and  being  more  gracious  than 
usual ;  neither  by  tone  nor  manner  did  she  betray 
that  he  had  offended  her. 

But  the  time  was  passing,  and  every  day  her 
chances  of  seeing  Whanks  alone  grew  less,  as 
Castelli  might  find  out  his  visits,  then  the  game 
would  be  up. 

One  afternoon  she  sent  for  Whanks,  and  deter- 
mined it  should  be  a  final  visit.  She  gave  him 
small  quantities  of  whisky  and  water,  not  much  at 
a  time,  but  little  by  little,  which  had  the  effect  of 
making  him  muddled,  yet  he  was  sufficiently  sober 
to  understand  her  questions  and  to  give  coherent 
replies. 

When  he  was  off  his  guard  she  began  with  great 
dexterity  to  find  out  all  the  particulars  she  wished  to 
know  regarding  Castelli. 

"  You're  away  a  good  deal  from  the  rehearsals 
lately,  Whanks  ;  I  suppose  you  are  engaged  in  the 
stables  more  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  has  more  business  out  of  the  circus 
altogether  now,  very  particular  for  the  master.  I 

4 


50  SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST. 

haven't  time  to  go  into  the  stables  neither,"  added 
the  man,  with  an  air  of  grandeur. 

"  It's  nice  to  be  trusted  with  particular  'bis'  for 
the  master;  it  shows  he  relies  on  you,"  she  replied 
cunningly. 

"Ay,  he  trusts  me  fast  enough.  Ah,  I  know  a 
thing  or  two,  bless  your  heart,  I  know  a  thing  or 
two  !  "  and  he  laughed  stupidly. 

"  I  daresay  you  know  a  good  many  things, 
Whanks,"  she  responded  gently. 

She  tried  to  appear  unconcerned,  in  case  her 
curiosity  should  become  too  pointed. 

"  I  rather  think  I  do,  Miss  Cleo.  Ay,  the  master 
is  a  funny  one,"  he  continued,  half  drowsily,  "  very 
funny.  He's  on  with  one,  and  then  another,  and 
I've  enough  to  do  going  his  errints. " 

"  You  have  to  go  a  long  way  for  him,  I  suppose  ?  " 
she  asked  with  skilful  indifference. 

"  Well,  I  do  now  and  again." 

Although  his  comprehension  was  somewhat 
dulled,  he  retained  sufficient  control  over  himself 
to  be  a  little  on  his  guard. 

Cleo  saw  this,  and  she  refilled  his  glass.  Another 
drink  would  bring  him  up  to  the  point.  As  she 
anticipated,  he  became  more  talkative  after  the  last 
and  stronger  glass  of  whisky. 

"  Yes,  I  has  to  go  to  Sandcliffe  most  days  when 
the  master  don't  go  hisself.  First  there's  a  dog  to  be 
took,  then  a  hoss  for  an  hour  or  two,  then  a  book, 
or  hosses  and  letters  and  messages."  He  paused 
after  so  long  a  speech,  looking  dazed,  and  quite  un- 
conscious that  he  had  betrayed  his  master's  secret. 

"  Who  do  you  take  these  things  to,  W'hanks?  I 
suppose  some  gentleman  friend  ?  I  know  Castelli 
has  friends  in  the  neighbourhood." 

The  latter  part  of  her  sentence  was  purely  a  make 
up,  but  it  answered  her  purpose  to  draw  the  man 
out  to  say  more. 

"  Ah,  that's  telling  who  it  is ;  there  ain't  much  of 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  51 

the  gentleman   in  the  business  ;  but  I  shan't  split. 
I  promised  master  I  would  not,  and  I  won't." 

He  rose  to  go,  standing  with  his  hand  on  the  back 
of  the  chair  to  steady  himself. 

"  I  must  be  off,  Miss  Cleo.  I've  got  the  hosses 
to  see  about.  If  I'd  only  my  aunt's  money  I'd  never 
look  after  another  blessed  hoss. " 

Cleo  smiled.  She  had  gained  all  the  information 
she  needed,  and  she  did  not  press  him  to  remain  ; 
indeed  it  was  best  that  he  should  get  clear  out  of  her 
rooms  without  delay. 

Partially  satisfied  with  her  interview  with  Whanks, 
there  was  still  much  more  to  find  out,  and  she 
resolved  to  go  over  to  Sandcliffe  to  see  if  she  could 
discover  anything  for  herself. 

Accordingly  the  next  day  she  set  off  by  the  morn- 
ing coach,  and  after  partaking  of  some  refreshment 
at  the  inn,  she  started  up  the  village.  As  she  passed 
a  small  shop  she  saw  a  fisherman  standing  at  the 
door  with  a  kibsey  full  of  fresh  shrimps. 

"  Good  morning,"  she  said  kindly,  and  the  rnan 
looked  round  with  astonishment  to  see  such  a 
handsome  woman  in  the  remote  village.  Her  attire 
was  elegant,  she  must  be  some  one  very  grand,  he 
thought,  so  he  touched  his  hat  respectfully  and 
replied,— 

"  Good  morning,  my  lady;  beautiful  weather  we 
are  having  now." 

"  Beautiful,"  she  added,  "  and  this  place  looks  so 
lovely  I  cannot  think  why  more  people  don't  come 
to  see  it." 

"Are  you  staying  here,  lady?"  asked  the  man 
with  interest. 

"  No.  unfortunately,  I  am  not.  I  came  over  this 
morning  in  the  coach  just  to  see  the  place.  I  have 
been  staying  in  Bayhaven.  You  don't  often  get 
visitors  here,  I  suppose  ?  "  she  said  unaffectedly. 

"Not  often,  lady  ;  it's  agin  us,  having  no  trains. 
Folks  don't  care  about  coming  in  the  coach.  It's 


5 2  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

ackard  when  there's  children  and  luggage.  No,  we 
sha'n't  hope  to  do  much  till  we  gits  the  rail.  They've 
talked  of  that  a  long  time,  but  there  it  ends.  Let  me 
see,"  added  the  man,  taking  off  his  hat  and  putting 
it  on  again  dubiously,  "  we  has  one  visitor  here,  of 
course,  a  young  lady  lodging  up  at  Green's  Cottages 
— a  very  pretty  lass  she  is  too,  quite  a  lady,  so  they 
says.  I  takes  shrimps  up  there  most  days." 

"Oh,  well,  I  hope  you  will  soon  get  the  line  here, 
and  then  plenty  of  people  will  come." 

As  she  spoke  she  pressed  a  shilling  into  his  hand. 

He  thanked  her  profoundly,  and  she  turned  to  go, 
hut  suddenly  she  inquired  carelessly, — 

"  Where  are  Green's  Cottages?     Far  from  here  ?  " 

"There  they  lies,  lady.  Them  there  white  ones  on 
the  slope  of  the  hill.  The  prettiest  houses  in  the 
place  to  my  thinking." 

"Thank  you.     Good-day." 

The  man  watched  her  up  the  hill,  and  then  he  went 
into  the  back  parlour  behind  the  shop,  and  informed 
his  wife  of  the  bit  of  news. 

"  She  was  grand  enough  dressed,  Marier  Ann,"  he 
said,  ';  but  I  can't  help  thinking  as  she  was  after  some- 
body or  something.  Maybe  I'm  wrong,  but  methinks 
I'm  on  the  right  track.  I  wonder  if  she's  aught  to  do 
with  the  young  lady  up  at  the  Cottages.  There's 
summit  going  on." 

As  his  faithful  spouse  could  not  enlighten  him,  he 
started  off  with  his  shrimps,  telling  the  story  of  the 
lady  at  every  house  he  called. 

Cleo  turned  down  a  narrow  path  which  was  cut 
out  of  the  side  of  the  cliffs,  and  walked  on  to  see  if 
anyone  was  on  the  beach  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Cot- 
tages. She  went  on  for  some  way,  when  a  horse  in 
the  distance  arrested  her  attention.  She  stopped 
suddenly,  and  putting  up  one  hand  to  shade  her  eyes, 
she  scanned  it  closely. 

"That's  ' Fleetfoot,'"  she  said- to  herself,  " and  the 
man  on  him  is  none  other  than  Castelli.  It's  he  sure 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 


53 


enough,"  she  argued.  "  Now  I  will  watch  the  farce 
out  at  a  safe  distance." 

She  returned  up  the  narrow  path  and  regained  the 
road.  He  must  not  see  her,  whatever  came  to  pass. 
From  where  she  was  she  could  observe  without  being' 
seen.  She  sat  down  and  waited. 

She  heard  the  horse  gallop  past  on  the  sand  be- 
neath. She  heard  Castelli's  voice  urging  the  animal 
on.  When  they  had  passed  she  rose  up  quickly  to 
be  sure  it  was  he.  One  glance  sufficed  to  tell  her 
that  her  suspicions  were  confirmed. 

Fora  moment  she  felt  inclined  to  call  out  loudly  after 
him,  but  she  refrained.  She  would  not  be  rash  or 
indiscreet,  but  abide  her  time.  Later  she  went  to- 
wards the  Cottages,  and  when  close  to  them  she  saw 
a  tall,  delicate  looking  girl  coming  in  the  opposite 
direction.  No  doubt  this  was  the  lady  come  from 
her  meeting  with  Castelli.  Probably  she  had  reached 
the  road  by  another  path  up  the  cliffs. 

As  Cleo  passed  her  she  noticed  how  beautiful  the 
girl  was,  with  her  simple  gown  of  pink  cotton,  re- 
lieved with  bunches  of  white  roses  at  her  throat  and 
waist.  She  knew  now  where  the  flowers  came  from 
each  evening  for  Castelli.  Under  one  arm  she  carried 
a  small  dog,  the«silver  bells  on  his  collar  tinkling  as 
they  passed  ;  she  was  sure  it  was  the  same  animal 
that  Castelli  had  tied  to  the  leg  of  his  table. 

Cleo  turned  back  after  the  girl.  She  must  know 
which  cottage  was  the  home  of  Castelli's  sweetheart. 

"Oh,  it's  the  house  with  the  white  roses,  is  it?" 
she  said  to  herself.  "Ah,  my  lady,  you  won't  go 
on  in  your  fool's  paradise,  if  I  can  help  it,  very  long. 
So,  you  think  Castelli  an  angel,  no  doubt ;  I  think  he 
is  a  devil — yes,  a  devil,"  she  repeated  loudly. 

On  her  way  home  she  decided  to  let  Castelli  know 
she  had  found  him  out ;  at  the  same  time  she  would 
see  what  persuasion  would  effect  before  speaking  her 
mind  to  him. 

On  the  evening  of  the  day  on  which  she  had  visited 


54 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 


Sandcliffe  she  walked  unceremoniously  to  his  room. 

"What  dojyou  want  ? "  he  said  somewhat  curtly. 
"I'm  really  very  busy  to-night." 

"Have  you  not  time  to  speak  to  me?"  she  asked 
quickly  ;  "you  used  to  like  a  chat  with  me.  You're 
strangely  altered,  Emilio.  I  don't  believe  you  care 
for  me  one  little  bit  now,  do  you?" 

Her  voice  was  gentle  and  tender.  She  wanted  to 
hear  from  his  own  lips  whether  he  loved  her  or  not, 
and  now  was  her  opportunity. 

"I  always  liked  you,"  he  answered  evasively, 
"but  we  can't  always  be  chatting  ;  it  is  quite  absurd 
to  expect  it." 

"I  believe  you  love  someone  else,"  she  remarked, 
going  to  the  point  at  once. 

"There  is  no  reason  why  I  should  not,"  he  an- 
swered drily.  "  I  suppose  I  am  free  to  do  that  if  I 
like  ?  " 

"No,  you're  not  free  after  making  a  fool  of  me," 
she  answered  hotly.  "You've  always  led  me  on  to 
suppose  I  should  be  your  wife,  and  now  you  chuck 
me  off.  If  you're  in  love  with  anyone  else,  you  are 
a  liar  and  a  hypocrite  !  " 

She  was  losing  her  temper,  for  she  saw  that  her 
sweetness  had  no  effect  upon  him. 

Castelli  was  anxious  for  Cleo  to  leave  him,  and  he 
moved  up  and  down  the  room  restlessly.  At  last  he 
said, — 

"It's  no  use  you  standing  there  calling  me  foul 
names.  If  I  am  in  love  it's  nothing  to  you,  and  as 
to  you  ever  being  my  wife,  I  would  not  marry  you 
if  there  wasn't  another  woman  in  the  world.  1  never 
intended  to  do  so,  I  never  shall,  and  once  more  I  tell 
you  I  am  busy." 

"Oh,  you  weren't  too  busy  to  go  to  Sandcliffe  this 
morning,  were  you?"  she  replied  angrily.  "You 
didn't  know  I  saw  you,  did  you  ?  But  you  see,  I  did, 
and  a  nice  fool  you're  making  of  the  girl,"  she  added 
with  scorn.  . 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  55 

His  face  grew  white  with  suppressed  passion  as  he 
answered, — 

"How  dare  you  spy  upon  my  actions?  How 
dare  you  address  me?  It's  nothing  to  you  where  I 
go.  I  suppose  I  can  ride  to  Sandcliffe  if  I  choose  ?  " 

"So  can  I,  and  1  mean  to  go  again,  and  just  as 
often  as  I  like,  without  your  permission." 

"Go  to  blazes  if  you  like,  but  hold  your  vicious 
tongue  or  I  will  make  you." 

' '  Oh,  you  want  to  shut  me  up,  do  you  ?  You're 
afraid  I've  found  out  too  much.  Anyway,  I've  seen 
the  lady  and  the  roses  and  the  dog,  and  she  lives  in 
a  cottage  on  the  hill.  By  Jove  !  it  is  quite  a  romance 
for  the  circus.  Fancy  a  girl  like  that  marrying  a 
ringmaster  !  I  wonder  if  she  knows  how  you  have 
led  other  women  on,  and  how  you  swear  and  curse. 
It's  a  pity  such  a  little  innocent  should  marry  you," 
she  added  mockingly. 

Castelli's  passion  was  terrible  to  behold.  For  a 
moment  he  could  not  speak. 

"You  devil!"  he  hissed,  "  you  tell  me  I've  led  other 
women  on.  You  lie,  you  scurrilous  wretch  !  Unsay 
what  you  have  said,  or  by  heaven  I'll  shake  your  life 
out  of  you  !  " 

"  You  daren't.  You  coward,  to  threaten  a  woman  ! 
I  wish  the  dear^young  lady  was  here,"  she  replied 
tauntingly.  "I  wonder  what  she  would  think  of  you. 
It's  a  pity  you  don't  show  yourself  in  your  true 
colours." 

In  a  moment,  before  she  was  aware,  he  grasped 
her  roughly  by  the  arm  and  shook  her  fiercely  several 
times. 

"  Now,  then,  I'll  stand  no  more  of  your  nonsense. 
I've  had  a  devilish  sight  too  much  of  it  already." 

He  turned  in  his  anger  and  glanced  hurriedly  round 
as  if  in  search  for  his  whip. 

All  the  fury  of  her  nature  was  aroused.  She  did 
not  plead  for  mercy,  but  stood  her  ground  bravely. 
He  held  her  so  tightly  that  she  could  not  escape  from 


56  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

his  grasp,  but  with  her  disengaged  hand  she  fought 
him  with  all  her  strength. 

"  I'll  teach  you  to  shake  me  !  "  she  panted.  "  You 
brute,  you  devil  !  "  and  she  struggled  violently  to  free 
herself. 

But  that  was  impossible.  He  dragged  her  easily 
across  the  room,  resistance  was  useless,  nearer  and 
nearer  to  the  chair  where  the  thin  riding-whip  was 
lying.  He  had  it  within  his  grasp,  when  the  door 
opened  suddenly  and  a  voice  called, — 

"  Ten  minutes  to  nine,  sir.  The  horses  are  ready 
for  the  ring,  sir." 

Whanks  could  say  nothing  else.  He  was  fairly 
frightened  out  of  his  few  senses. 

"  Don't  stand  there,  you  fool,  gaping  at  me,"  said 
Castelli,  as  he  flung  down  the  whip.  "  I  daresay 
you're  in  this  confounded  business.  I  shall  find  it 
out,  and  then  we'll  see  who  is  master." 

He  flung  Cleo  into  a  chair,  and  hastened  into  the 
ring,  followed  by  Whanks.  A  roar  of  applause 
greeted  Castelli's  appearance. 

His  smile  was  as  fascinating  as  usual.  He  looked 
just  as  dignified,  just  as  calm  as  ever.  The  scene 
with  Cleo  had  not  in  the  least  disturbed  his  serenity 
before  the  public. 

Cleo  was  faint  and  exhausted  with  her  struggle. 
Castelli's  fingers  had  left  an  ugly  bruise  on  her  arm, 
which  was  swelling  and  looking  purple  and  blue. 
It  was  a  good  thing  her  "  show  "  had  been  one  of  the 
first.  She  could  never  have  faced  the  people  with 
those  hideous  dark  contused  spots,  growing  more 
painful  every  moment. 

She  went  to  her  dressing-room  and  divested  her- 
self of  her  stage  attire,  and  then  sat  down  almost  too 
weary  to  think.  She  heard  the  applause  as  Castelli 
left  the  ring.  She  heard  the  horses  gallop  past  to 
their  stalls,  and-a  wild  gleam  came  into  her  eyes. 
She  \vas  recovering  her  spirits,  and  with  them  her 
thirst  for  revenge.  She  must  tip  Whanks  to  hold 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  57 

his  tongue.  It  would  be  the  most  cruel  degradation 
to  her  should  the  recital  of  her  treatment  become 
the  topic  of  conversation  amongst  the  grooms  and 
artistes  in  the  circus.  This  being  accomplished  to 
her  satisfaction,  she  hastened  to  her  apartments,  but 
on  her  way  thither  she  called  to  order  a  carriage 
and  pair  to  drive  her  over  to  Sandcliffe  at  ten  o'clock 
the  next  morning. 

She  had  planned  to  rob  Castelli  of  his  bride. 

The  following  morning  Leila  Gurney  was  stand- 
ing watching  the  scudding,  restless  clouds.  The 
night  had  been  stormy,  but  the  morning  was  balmy, 
with  fitful  gleams  of  sunshine.  Truly  the  world 
was  in  a  joyful  mood.  Leila  shared  this  great  natu- 
ral happiness,  for  was  not  her  life  like  the  summer, 
full  of  a  thousand  tender  hopes,  since  the  man  she 
loved  had  sought  and  won  her  heart?  Had  he  not 
charmed  away  despondency  and  misery  from  her 
life,  and  given  in  its  stead  promised  joy  and  peace? 
With  what  keen  delight  she  looked  forward  to  his 
coming  again  on  the  morrow.  She  would  soon 
listen  to  his  voice,  that  voice  she  loved,  almost  to 
her  as  tender  as  the  ringdove's  cooing  and  as  soothing 
as  lute,  to  the  wearied  ear  at  eventide. 

She  turned  from  the  window  and  spoke  to  her  dog 
— his  gift.  "  Marcus,  shall  we  go  down  to  the  sea? 
Marcus,  your  master  will  be  here  to-morrow  to  see 
us,  and  we  are  going  driving,  doggie,"  and  she  picked 
him  up  and  kissed  him  passionately. 

A  wag  of  the  fluffy  tail  and  a  few  licks  was  the 
dog's  mute  answer. 

"  Let  me  put  on  your  collar,  Marcus,  with  the 
pretty  bells,"  and  she  jingled  the  collar  in  the  air. 

"  A  lady  to  see  you,  miss,"  announced  the  land- 
lady somewhat  curiously. 

"  To  see  me  />  There  must  be  some  mistake,  I 
have  no  friends  here." 

"  It's  no  mistake,  Miss  Gurney,"  answered  a  kindly 
voice  ;  "  I  have  called  upon  particular  business." 


5 8  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

For  a  moment  Leila  thought  it  was  some  messenger 
from  her  mother,  and  her  face  flushed  painfully. 
Leila  asked  her  to  be  seated,  meanwhile  admiring 
the  handsome,  elegantly  dressed  woman,  so  different 
in  appearance  and  manner  to  the  ladies  she  had  ever 
known. 

"  I  wonder  who  she  can  be?  "  was  her  mental  re- 
joinder. Poor  lonely  Leila  had  no  friends  to  come 
dropping  in  for  a  cup  of  tea,  and  the  advent  of  a 
stranger  caused  her  to  be  painfully  nervous.  She 
could  not  speak  for  the  throbbing  of  her  heart. 

"I  must  apologise  for  calling,"  began  the  lady, 
"  but  I  happened  to  hear  by  chance  that  you  are 
here  alone  and  without  your  friends,  and  as  you  are,  I 
find,  slipping  without  knowing  it  into  a  great  danger, 
I  have  come  to  warn  you,  to  speak  to  you  as  one 
lady  should  to  another.  If  what  I  hear  is  correct,  I 
believe  you  are  engaged  to  be  married  to  Sign  or 
Emilio  Castelli,  the  equestrian  manager  of  the  circus 
now  in  Bayhaven.  Is  it  so  ?  " 

She  paused,  and  Leila  sank  down  on  the  sofa, 
clutching  the  dog  against  her  as  if  to  still  the  beating 
of  her  heart 

"  Yes,  it  is  quite  true ;  I  am  engaged  to  him,  I  am 
proud  to  say.  But  I  do  not  wish  to  discuss  the  matter 
with  a  stranger  ;  thank  you  all  the  same,"  she  added 
more  gently,  as  if  ashamed  of  her  brusqueness. 

"  Now,  listen  to  me,  my  dear."  Leila  winced  at 
the  familiarity.  "  You're  going  to  marry  this  man, 
and  you  don't  know  a  thing  about  him.  He  is  very 
handsome,  and  you  are  smitten,  but  if  you  knew  as 
much  as  I  do  about  him  you'd  thank  me  to  the  last 
day  of  your  life  for  coming  here.  If  you  value  your 
happiness,  have  nothing  to  do  with  Emilio  Castelli. 
There,  I  have  at  least  done  my  duty  in  warning  you 
— no  Christian  could  do  more.  Let  me  tell  you  that 
I  know  his  character  perhaps  the  best  of  anyone  in 
the  world." 

"  I  don't  want  to  hear  anything  about  him,"  Leila 


SLAVES  OP  THE  SAWDUST. 


59 


replied  hotly.  "  I  love  him,  and  intend  to  marry 
him,  \vhatever_yow  may  say  against  him." 

"  You'd  rather  not  hear  what  I  have  to  say.  For 
love  of  this  man  you'd  rather  risk  all  your  future — 
you'll  repent  of  your  choice  when  it  is  too  late.  I 
tell  you  Castelli  has  been  engaged  to  heaps  of  women, 
that  his  character  doesn't  stand  too  high,  and  he  has 
had  a  sweetheart  in  every  town  the  circus  has  ever 
visited.  He  is  a  liar,  a  hypocrite,  and  unprincipled  ! 
And  yet,  rather  than  listen  to  me,  you'd  trust  your 
life  to  his  keeping  !  " 

"  I  would,"  answered  Leila  determinedly.  "  I 
don't  suppose  you  are  in  a  position  to  judge  much 
about  him  ?  " 

"Oh,  you  mistrust  me,  do  you?  But  you  seel 
happen  to  be  Cleo,  the  only  Cleo  '  Equilibrist/ 
walker,  and  Castelli  and  I  have  met  constantly  these 
three  years.  And  who  should  know  him  better  than 
I  do?  I  was  actually  engaged  to  him,  until  a  few 
\veeks  ago,  when  he  threw  me  off  like  a  hound" — 
she  paused — "  and  you're  the  new  love." 

"I  do  not  believe  a  word  you've  said,"  replied 
Leila  gravely. 

She  was  terribly  astonished,  but  her  infatuation  was 
so  intense  that  she  never  for  one  moment  believed 
the  speaker. 

"You  doubt  me,  do  you,  Miss  Gurney  ? "  said  Cleo, 
losing  her  temper.  "This  is  all  I  get  for  troubling 
myself  on  your  behalf.  I'd  rather  die  than  let  any 
woman  I  know  marry  that  man  with  my  consent." 

"  I  haven't  asked  your  consent,"  said  Leila  quietly, 
although  she  could  hardly  speak  for  agitation.  "I 
love  him  with  all  my  heart — nothing  can  part  us 
now." 

"Oh,  can't  it?"  replied  Cleo  scornfully.  "Sup- 
pose I  tell  you  that  /love  him,  and  have  done  so  for 
years.  To  me  he  has  been  the  one  joy  of  my  life. 
Will  you  take  another  woman's  lover  ?  Is  that  square 
and  honest  ? " 


60  SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST. 

"You  say  you  love  him,  and  yet  you  warn  me 
against  the  same  privilege,"  said  Leila.  "If  you 
love  him,  surely  I  may  do  the  same.  If  he  is  good 
for  you,  he  is  for  me.'' 

Cleo  saw  she  had  let  the  ground  go  from  under  her 
argument,  that  the  girl  was  as  sharp  as  she  was,  but 
she  still  held  tenaciously  to  her  purpose. 

"Oh,  I  thought  you  were  a  lady.  I  never  profess 
to  be  one,"  she  added  with  a  sneer.  "  Idid  not  know 
the  racehorse  would  eat  with  the  sow." 

"I  am  satisfied,"  said  Leila,  "with  my  choice. 
He  does  not  love  you,  for  now  I  remember  he  did 
speak  of  you,  and  I  have  heard  all  about  the  'dis- 
agreement between  you.'" 

Cleo  turned  white.  Her  fury  rose.  She  was  almost 
mad  with  passion.  She  jumped  up  from  her  chair 
and  exclaimed  excitedly, — 

"You  dare  to  sit  there  and  insult  me!  He  has 
told  you  all  about  me,  has  he  ?  Well,  it's  my  turn 
now.  I  daresay  a  chit  of  a  girl  like  you  don't  know 
much  of  circus  life.  To  you,  I  suppose,  it's  all  gilt, 
music,  clowns,  horses,  and  applause.  Fun  for  such 
as  you,  that's  what  the  paying  public  see.  None  of 
you  would  like  to  see  things  as  they  are.  It  would 
distress  your  fine  nerves  too  much,  and  disturb  your 
comfort.  It's  such  men  as  Castelli  that  make  the 
circus  a  hell.  He " 

"I  won't  hear  any  more  about  him,"  replied  Leila, 
now  angry.  "  I  trust  him  thoroughly.  Say  no  more, 
if  you  please." 

"I  won't  be  silent,"  said  Cleo,  interrupting  her. 
"  I  came  here  to  have  my  say,  and  have  it  I  will. 
Emilio  Castelli,"  she  continued,  "  is  a  cruel  brute.  It's 
a  bad  day  for  horse  or  girl  when  they  fall  into  his 
way.  Ah,  you  don't  know  the  secrets  behind  the 
scenes,  how  horses  are  thrashed  until  they  drop  ex- 
hausted in  the  ring,  and  your  lover  Castelli  is  more 
pitiless  than  the  rest.  Ask  Mdlle.  Donis,  whom  he 
trained,  what  he's  like.  She'll  tell  you  how  he  made 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST.  6 1 

her  life  a  curse,  a  burden.  How  one  day  in  Leeds, 
in  my  presence,  he  lashed  her  with  his  whip  for  bad 
'trick  riding,'  and  for  two  long  hours  kept  her  at  it, 
bruised,  bleeding,  and  sobbing,  and  then  when  she 
dismounted,  kicked  her  in  the  ring — yes,  kicked  her. 
That's  how  he  treats  women.  That's  how  he'll  treat 
you.  He  knows  no  mercy.  He's  fierce  and  cruel. 
You'll  get  more  of  the  whip  than  love,  more  curses 
than  blessings,  and  more  kicks  than  kisses, "she  added 
with  intense  passion. 

"You  are  telling  me  untruths,"  said  Leila  curtly. 
"  Why  should  he  be  so  cruel.?  " 

"It's  the  way  with  some  in  our  profession.  Cas- 
telli  is  the  biggest  brute  I  have  ever  come  across.  I 
wish  you  luck  with  him." 

"Be  good  enough  tg  leave  this  room.  I  have  no 
wish  to  hear  more.  Go  at  once,"  exclaimed  Leila, 
standing  up,  facing  her  visitor  steadily.  "Be  good 
enough  to  leave  me.  I  shall  marry  whom  I  choose. 
Your  visit  to  me  has  not  influenced  me  in  the 
least." 

She  went  to  the  door  and  held  it  open. 

Cleo  saw  it  would  be  fruitless  to  remain,  but  she 
intended  to  play  another  scene  before  the  curtain 
dropped  upon  her  expedition. 

"  I'll  go  out  of  your  room,  never  fear,  but  the  day 
will  come  when  you  will  repent  of  your  bargain, 
when  you'll  wish  you  had  listened  to  me,  and  I  hope 
it  will,"  she  added,  with  a  fiendish  smile.  "It  will 
jolly  well  serve  you  right,"  and  with  this  she  bounced 
out  of  the  room. 

Leila  was  half  inclined  to  cry  now  the  interview 
was  over,  and  for  a  moment  she  sat  as  if  in  a  stupor. 
Suddenly  loud  voices  were  heard  proceeding  from  the 
kitchen,  at  the  rear  of  the  house.  She  opened  the 
door  again  and  listened.  A  woman's  voice  was 
saying, — 

"You'd  better  let  her  friends  know  before  it's  too 
late.  Tell  them  how  things  stand,  and  do  warn  them 


62  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

that  marriage  isn't  much  in  his  way.  He'll  never 
make  her  a  wife." 

Then  the  landlady  replied, — 

"I  guessed  there  was  something  up  by  the  dog 
coming  and  the  groom  bringing  books  and  a  horse 
most  days  for  her  to  ride.  And  the  master  hisself 
comes  pretty  often.  There's  always  somebody  com- 
ing to  and  fro.  But  still  it's  not  my  place  to  inter- 
fere with  my  lodgers.  If  she  gets  married,  she  must. 
I'm  not  in  charge  of  her.  The  doctor  sent  her  here. 
I  was  in  his  service  before  I  married.  It's  nought  to 
do  with  me." 

"Well,  my  good  woman,  you'll  get  yourself  into 
nice  trouble  if  she  does  go  off  with  him.  Be  advised 
and  write  to  her  friends.  He's  a  regular  bad  lot.  It 
would  be  her  ruin.  It  must  be  stopped  before  it  is 
too  late." 

"Oh,  I'll  just  get  my  husband  to  write  a  line  to 
the  doctor.  He'll  be  home  to-night.  It  can  do  no 
harm.  Leastways,  I  hope  not,  for  the  doctor  lets  my 
rooms  for  me  most  seasons." 

There  was  a  scuffling  of  feet,  the  voices  grew  nearer, 
and  Leila  guessed  the  woman  was  coming  past  to  the 
front  door  and  closed  hers  gently. 

She  had  heard  enough  to  make  her  miserable.  She 
determined  to  write  off  to  Castelli  at  once,  and  hear 
from  his  lips  whether  the  cruel  statements  were  true. 

She  was  just  as  faithful  to  him.  Her  heart  was 
unshaken,  and  his  love  was  still  her  most  cherished 
hope.  Yet  somehow  the  summer  did  not  seem  so 
bright,  for  the  rankling  wounds  of  remembrance 
would  remain  despite  the  wish  to  forget. 

A  few  teardrops  marked  the  day. 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST.  63 


CHAPTER  VI. 

NO  JOY   COMES  UNMIXED. 

LEILA  looked  very  pale  and  tired  when  she  went  to 
meet  Castelli  at  the  old  trysting  place  under  the  tall 
white  cliffs. 

The  long  restless  hours  of  the  night  had  robbed 
her  of  her  charms.  The  brightness  of  her  glorious 
eyes  had  grown  dim,  and  in  its  place  there  was  an 
anxious,  eager  look,  and  dark  circles  had  formed 
underneath  them,  giving  a  very  ill  effect  to  the 
lovely  face. 

Ah,  it  does  not  take  much  to  rob  the  lilies  of 
their  bloom.  One  cruel  storm  and  the  fairness  is 
destroyed. 

Leila  smiled  faintly  as  Castelli  approached  her. 
He  was  prepared  to  see  her  look  worried.  Her 
urgent  letter  calling  him  to  her  side  had  shown  him 
how  distressed  she  was,  but  he  was  horrified  at  the 
change  in  her  appearance. 

He  kissed  her  warmly  and  then  remarked, — 

"My  darling,  what  ails  you?  Are  you  ill?  I 
came  over  as  quickly  as  I  could  after  having  your 
note.  Now  tell  me  all  the  worries  and  just  what 
has  happened." 

"  I  am  frightened,  Emilio,  dreadfully  frightened," 
and  she  hid  her  face  on  his  arm.  "  I'm  almost 
afraid  to  tell  you  all  I  have  heard  ;  it  is  so  dreadful." 

"  Don't  be  afraid,"  answered  Castelli  in  a  kind 
voice  fraught  with  sympathy.  "  Have  I  not  the 
right  to  help  you,  Leila?  Now,  sit  down  and  let 
me  understand  what  has  happened." 

She  sat  dov/n    with   her  thin  white  hand  in  his, 


64  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

and  then  she  told  him  all  the  story  of  Cleo.  At 
times  she  was  so  agitated  that  she  could  hardly 
continue  the  conversation,  and  when  she  had  finished 
she  burst  into  tears. 

Castelli  looked  very  grave,  and  said  firmly  but 
gently,— 

"  Don't  cry,  Leila,  but  listen  to  me.  All  this 
woman  has  told  you  is  untrue,  utterly  false.  She 
has  lied  for  her  own  mean  ends.  She  hopes  still 
to  triumph  over  you  by  her  tyranny,  to  make  you 
quail  before  her  threats,  to  prevent  us  from  becoming 
man  and  wife.  My  love  for  you  has  roused  her 
anger.  She  hates  me,  and  for  revenge  tries  to 
corrupt  your  thoughts,  and  tells  you  I  am  false  and 
base.  Leila,"  and  he  pressed  her  hands  tenderly, 
"  dojyou  doubt  me  ?  " 

His  tone  inspired  her  with  a  sense  of  awe.  She 
had  never  heard  him  speak  in  this  strange  and 
eloquent  style,  and  it  awoke  in  her  a  certain  shame 
and  regret  that  he  should  have  to  ask  her  if  she 
believed  the  woman  who  had  tried  to  throw  such  a 
ban  on  his  name. 

"  I  could  never  doubt  you,  Emilio,  you  must  know 
that.  I  was  certain  you  would  not  marry  her.  But 
is  all,  quite  all,  she  said  untrue  ?  Have  you  had 
sweethearts  in  every  town  you  have  visited  ?  " 

"  One  I've  had,  Leila,  and  that  is  you,"  he  replied 
soothingly.  "  No  one  else  has  been  dear  to  me.  I 
have  never  whispered  love  to  another,  never  pictured 
with  fond  delight  the  pleasures  of  a  home  except 
with  you  and  for  you." 

He  breathed  a  sigh  as  he  finished  speaking,  and 
to  Leila  it  seemed  like  an  anguished  heart.  In  a 
moment  all  her  tender  sympathies  were  aroused, 
and  she  replied  in  soft  tones, — 

"  I  believe  you,  Emilio,  dear  Emilio  ;  but  why 
did  that  woman  say  such  very  dreadful  things?  I 
can't  bear  to  think  of  them." 

"  Because  she  hates  us,  Leila,  and  if  she  can  mar 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  65 

our  happiness  her  joy  would  be  complete.  But  that 
can  never  be,  my  Leila,  for  are  not  our  hearts 
fortified  with  a  great  love  too  deep  to  be  put 
asunder?" 

"  Yes,  oh,  yes,"  she  answered,  with  just  a  little 
hesitation,  whilst  a  flush  overspread  her  pale  face. 

Something  in  her  manner  implied  she  was  not 
quite  satisfied.  The  woman's  words  had  given  her 
some  fears,  some  feelings  of  impending  shadows 
rising  in  the  future,  and  she  could  not  as  yet  quite 
shake  off  the  forebodings,  transient  as  they  were. 

The  tenor  of  her  tone  struck  him  at  once,  and  he 
continued,  — 

"  There  is  something  still,  Leila,  that  is  troubling 
you.  Won't  you  tell  me  what  it  is,  dearest  ?  " 

Ignoring  his  direct  question,  she  asked  very 
meekly, — 

' '  Are  all  circus  people  cruel  to  women  and 
horses  ? " 

There  was  an  affectionate  hope  in  her  voice  that 
he  would  deny  this  also,  still  there  was  a  pleading, 
a  yearning  to  know  the  truth  from  his  lips. 

"  None  of  us,  Leila  ;  it  would  not  pay  us  to  be 
cruel.  Of  course  we  are  firm,  and  have  to  train 
with  a  masterly  hand  or  there  would  be  no  circus 
for  the  people  ;  and  to  avert  danger  and  to  save  our 
lives  we  must  be  stern.  Sometimes  there  is  a 
dreadful  struggle  between  a  horse  and  his  rider  and 
we  have  to  make  ourselves  the  master  once  and  for 
all." 

"  But  what  about  Mdlle.  Donis  ?  "  asked  Leila  with 
sudden  curiosity. 

His  face  grew  stern,  the  softness  died  from  his 
eyes.  His  temper  was  ruffled  when  he  found  how 
much  Leila  had  been  told,  but  his  tact  and  skill 
came  to  his  rescue,  and  he  threw  a  lustre  over  his 
deeds  which  he  knew  the  inexperienced  girl  could 
not  gainsay. 

"  I  did  train  Imra  Donis.  The  woman  told  you 
5 


66  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

the  truth  for  once."  he  said  with  withering  scorn, 
"  but  I  never  ill-used  her.  She  was  light  and  pretty, 
and  we  were  all  fond  of  her  and  proud  of  her  riding-. 
Her  grace  and  suppleness  was  perfection,  and  it 
was  to  my  advantage  to  treat  her  kindly.  Talent 
and  dexterity  are  absolute  necessities  in  the  ring, 
and  cruelty  would  not  develop  either,  so  put  away 
such  ideas,  Leila,  my  pet,  or  I  shall  think  you  don't 
love  me." 

"  I  have  but  one  love,  Emilio,  and  that  is  you," 
she  replied  with  fervour. 

Her  inquiries  were  beginning  to  be  rather  difficult 
to  answer  satisfactorily,  and  he  saw  that  the  matter 
must  be  brought  to  a  climax  before  she  had  time  to 
reflect  longer  on  all  that  Cleo  had  told  her. 

He  was  cunning — she  so  trusting. 

"  Leila,"  he  spoke  her  name  so  gently,  "do  you 
love  me  well  enough  to  do  anything  I  ask  you? " 

"  Anything,"  she  replied.  "Anything  in  the  wide 
world. " 

He  stooped  and  kissed  her. 

"  We  must  be  married  at  once,  Leila,  or  we  must 
part  for  ever.  The  landlady  is  sure  to  keep  her 
word — your  father  may  be  here  to-morrow,  and  we 
should  never  meet  again." 

Leila  was  thinking  how  dreary  that  going  home 
with  her  father  would  be,  and  she  shuddered  as 
she  thought  of  the  loss  of  her  handsome,  kindly 
lover.  Her  life  was  so  happy  basking  in  his  love — 
a  love  which  had  taken  possession  of  her  heart  and 
soul. 

"  Must  we,"  she  asked  vaguely,  as  one  in  a 
dream. 

"  Or  say  good-bye.  You  must  decide,  Leila, 
which  it  is  to  be." 

Her  passion  for  him  was  like  a  giant  wave — it 
rushed  madly  over  both  mind  and  body,  it  over- 
whelmed her  with  its  depth,  and  left  her  resistless, 
susceptible  only  to  her  dream  of  delight.  It  had 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  67 

dulled  her  for  the  time  to  the  realities  of  life.  She 
was  stupefied  with  the  cup  in  which  the  sweet 
poison  had  been  so  temptingly  and  insidiously 
held  to  her  lips.  Hope,  youth's  prophet,  had  said  : 
V  Drink  to  the  dregs,  and  so  chase  away  anxious 
care.  Love  to  you  will  be  the  balm  to  all  ills,  and 
the  cure  of  sorrow.  Why  tread  a  lonely  way  when 
his  love  is  shining  for  thee  like  the  morning  star." 

She  was  entranced.     Her  love  was  almost  divine. 

Castelli  saw  her  wavering  in  her  decision  for  one 
moment,  and  then  she  spoke. 

"  It  can  never  be  good-bye  again,"  she  said  faintly. 
"  I  will  do  what  you  think  best" 

"You  are  brave  and  true,  Leila  ;  now  listen  to  me. 
If  the  landlady  wrote  last  night,  your  father  will 
probably  be  here  by  to-morrow  morning,  perhaps 
to-night" 

"Oh,  no,  he  won't,"  replied  Leila,  interrupting 
him  quickly.  "  He  never  does  anything  in  a 
hurry." 

"Well,  then,  we'll  give  him  until  to-morrow.  He 
or  the  doctor  is  sure  to  be  here  by  train  to-morrow. 
You  must  leave  quite  early  in  the  morning,  about  six 
o'clock,  before  anyone  is  about,  and  don't  bring  any- 
thing with  you  or  it  may  arouse  suspicion  if  you 
meet  any  of  the  fishermen  coming  from  their  boats 
in  the  bay." 

"  I  must  bring  Marcus,"  she  replied.  "  I  couldn't 
leave  him  behind." 

"Yes,  Marcus  can  come,  and  you  might  carry  a 
towel  in  your  hand.  It  would  seem  then  as  if  you 
were  going  to  take  an  early  bath.  Whatever  you  do, 
avoid  calling  people's  attention  to  you.  When  you 
have  left  the  house,  walk  by  the  beach  as  far  as 
Dread  Point.  It  is  about  two  miles,  not  more, 
straight  ahead  towards  Bayhaven." 

"I  have  been  there,"  she  replied  quickly.  "I 
know  the  spot  well." 

"That's  good,"  he  replied.      "When  you  get  to 


68  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

Dread's  Point,  Whanks  and  a  carriage  will  be  waiting1 
for  you  on  the  road  which  runs  along  the  Downs. 
He  will  drive  you  at  once  to  the  fishing  village  of 
Thorpe.  It  is  thirteen  miles  from  here,  and  seven 
on  the  other  side  of  Bayhaven.  I  shall  drive  over 
there  and  find  you  some  apartments,  and  in  them 
you  must  stay  until  I  can  join  you  with  a  special 
license.  You  must  remain  in  the  house,  answer  no 
questions  as  to  who  you  are,  or  where  you  come 
from.  Understand  me,  Leila,  that  is  most  impor- 
tant." 

"But  the  landlady  will  wonder  who  I  am,  and 
where  my  luggage  is.  I  shall  have  nothing  with 
me.  I  couldn't  go  like  that." 

"Then  you  must  give  up  the  enterprise  at  once, 
unless  you  like  to  make  out  a  list  of  a  few  neces- 
saries, which  Whanks  can  bring  you,  and  after  we 
are  man  and  wife,  Leila,  I  will  come  over  here  and 
demand  your  belongings.  Two  days  at  the  most 
you  will  have  to  wait." 

"But  the  landlady  will  think  it  so  funny  to  see 
me  there  alone.  There  will  be  no  excuse." 

"/will  see  her,  Leila,  when  I  take  the  rooms.  I 
shall  ask  her  to  care  for  you  until  I  come  with  the 
license.  When  all  is  ready  for  the  marriage  I  shall 
tell  her  the  truth.  Leave  it  to  me,  Leila  ;  I  will 
manage  her.  Only  do  as  I  tell  you,  the  rest  will  be 
easy." 

Leila  was  not  sufficiently  worldly  wise  to  under- 
stand that  money  can  do  everything.  She  did  not 
comprehend  that  Castelli's  management  of  the  land- 
lady meant  a  goodly  bribe  of  gold. 

She  was  satisfied.  She  would  do  what  he  bade 
her,  trusting  in  his  love  and  his  guidance. 

They  parted  for  the  last  time  as  lovers.  Her  de- 
pression had  passed  away.  A  joyousness  shone 
again  in  her  eyes,  and  her  voice  was  full  of  gladness 
as  she  said  good-bye  until  the  dawn  of  another 
day. 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  69 

"Good-bye,  Leila.  To-morrow,  sweetheart,  you 
must  come  away." 

"  I  will,"  she  replied  with  determination  ;  "I  will 
be  there." 

On  his  way  home  Castelli  wondered  if  she  would 
be  afraid  when  the  last  decisive  step  must  be  taken, 
whether  natural  timidity  would  usurp  its  sway  and 
he  should  lose  his  prize  for  ever. 

He  loved  her  dearly,  and  longed  for  the  time  when 
he  could  call  her  wife.  He  had  made  up  his  mind 
to  keep  his  pearl  at  Thorpe,  even  after  the  wedding 
was  over.  She  must  be  aloof  from  the  circus  en- 
tirely. 

In  the  meantime  there  was  much  for  him  to  do, 
for  the  hours  speed  on,  and  the  morrow  comes 
almost  before  the  sunset  dies  away. 

When  the  -early  day  dawned,  when  the  happy 
birds  had  begun  to  fill  the  silent  air  with  song, 
when  the  soft  breezes  were  wakening  the  sleeping 
flowers,  and  the  sea  murmuring  sweetly  on  the 
shore,  Leila  Gurney,  with  restless  haste,  set  out  upon 
her  journey — a  journey  which  would  bring  her  one 
step  nearer  to  the  goal  of  bliss,  that  haven  of  rest  for 
which  she  had  so  ardently  longed  during  her  sad  and 
shadowed  life. 

Five  hours  later  Charles  Gurney  and  Dr.  Burton 
sat  in  the  little  parlour  in  Green's  Cottages.  The 
landlady  was  propounding  her  theories  loudly  as  to 
the  whereabouts  of  her  lodger. 

"  When  I  came  down  this  morning,  sir,"  she  said, 
turning  to  the  doctor,  "she  was  gone  clean  as  a 
whistle.  I  never  heard  her  go  out,  yet  I  was  awake 
at  five  o'clock.  Her  bed  has  been  slept  in,  so  she 
can't  have  gone  far.  She  couldn't  walk  to  Bayhaven 
surely,  and  the  coach  hasn't  gone  yet.  She's  got 
the  start  of  you,  but  you're  bound  to  find  her." 

Charles  Gurney  replied  before  the  doctor  had  time 
to  speak. 

"You  wrote  to  warn  me,  Mrs.  Thomas,  for  which 


70  SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST. 

I  am  deeply  obliged,  but  as  the  bird  has  flown  there 
is  no  reason  for  us  to  detain  you  longer." 

"Don't  hurry,  Gurney.  I  should  like  to  be  sure 
of  one  or  two  things  before  we  leave.  I  was  instru- 
mental in  placing  your  daughter  here,  and  I  mean 
to  get  every  scrap  of  information  possible." 

"Do  you  know  for  certain  that  she  has  gone  with 
this  man  connected  with  the  circus  at  Bayhaven, 
Mrs.  Thomas  ?  "  he  asked. 

"As  far  as  we  can  be  sure  of  anything  in  this 
world,  sir.  The  lady  as  called  here  told  me  she  was 
engaged  to  him  ;  my  husband  saw  them  together 
yesterday  under  the  cliffs,  and^to-dayshehas  gone." 

"  Are  all  her  things  here  ? " 

"Just  as  she  left  them,  sir,  except  the  dog.  She 
took  him  with  her,  I  suppose,  for  he  ain't  here." 

"Where  does  this  unscrupulous  villain  perform, 
did  you  say?  "  asked  Gurney. 

"At  Deval's  Royal  Circus,  Bayhaven,  sir,  a  good 
seven  miles  from  here." 

"Oh,  I'm  not  going  after  her.  I  don't  care 
whether  it  is  seven  miles  or  seventy,"  said  Gurney 
hastily,  with  a  sullen  look  on  his  face.  "But  I 
should  like  the  brute's  name  and  address." 

"I  know  it's  Castelli,"  said  the  landlady,  "but  there 
was  two  other  names  before  that,  so  the  lady  said. 
It  began  with  E,  one  of  them  did,  but  it  beats  me 
to  think  what  she  called  him — sounded  like  a  name 
/never  heard  before,  fureign  I  should  say.  Why,  let 
me  see,"  she  exclaimed  suddenly,  "I  believe  the 
lady  wrote  it  down  on  the  baker's  book,  as  I  had 
in  my  hand  when  she  came  to  the  kitchen  door. 
I'll  go  and  see,  sir." 

She  left  the  room,  and  both  the  men  seemed  too 
full  of  thought  to  say  much.  At  length  the  doctor 
spoke. 

"Gurney,  we  must  find  her — fancy  her  at  the 
mercy  of  this  man  alone — we  had  better  go  to  Bay- 
haven  at  once." 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST.  71 

"  I  sha'n't.  You  can  go  a  fool's  errand  if  you  like. 
She  has  gone  somewhere,  and  there  she  can  re- 
main." 

"  Gurney,  she  is  your  only  girl,  the  one " 

Before  he  could  complete  the  sentence  the  land- 
lady appeared. 

"  Here  it  is,  sir,  wrote  down  under  the  quartern  of 
flour.  S-i-g-n-o-r, "  she  spelt  out  persistently  ;  "  but 
there,  perhaps  one  of  you  gentlemen  had  better  read 
it.  I'm  a  good  scholar,  so  my  husband  says,  but  I 
can't  manage  names  that  hasn't  got  any  Christianity 
in  them." 

"  'Signor  Emilio  Castelli,  Deval's  Royal  Circus, 
Bayhaven/"  read  out  Gurney.  "  I'll  take  the  name 
down,  if  you  don't  object,  madam." 

"  Well  I  hope  I  sha'n't  get  into  any  trouble  over 
the  affair,  as  my  husband  says  I  can't  be  expected 
to  look  after  the  lodgers." 

"I  shall  make  no  trouble,  madam,"  said  Charles 
Gurney,  rising  to  leave.  "I  had  hoped  to  have 
saved  her  from  the  degradation  of  a  marriage  far 
beneath  her,  but  as  I  am  too  late,  I  don't  intend  to 
trouble  more  about  her." 

"You'll  think  better  of  that,  Gurney,  by-and-by," 
replied  the  doctor,  almost  ashamed  of  the  father's 
callous  bearing  and  loveless  tone;  "she  must  be 
found  without  delay." 

"Not  by  me"  answered  Charles  Gurney,  "not  by 
me,"  he  repeated  severely  and  coldly. 

"Well,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Thompson,  as  she  reached 
the  front  door,  turning  to  face  Dr.  Burton,  "I  hope 
you'll  send  me  some  more  lodgers ;  it's  no  fault  of 
mine.  I  believe  this  scandal  will  be  pounds  out  of 
my  pocket ;  my  husband  says  it  will.  I'd  give  any- 
thing if  it  had  happened  in  someone  else's  house  and 
not  in  mine." 

"I  shall  always  do  the  best  I  can  for  you,  Mrs. 
Thompson,  but  I  won't  send  you  any  more  unpro- 


72  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

tected  girls.     There  must  be  a  father  or  mother  in 
the  business  next  time." 

He  shook  hands  with  her,  but  Charles  Gurney  did 
not  even  speak.  He  nodded  slightly  towards  her, 
and  with  this  scant  courtesy  Mrs.  Thompson  had  to 
be  satisfied. 

After  they  left  the  house  Dr.  Burton  insisted  upon 
taking  lunch  at  the  hotel.  The  train  did  not  leave 
for  another  three  hours,  and  he  was  in  hopes  that 
Gurney,  in  the  meantime,  would  look  at  the  matter 
in  a  different  light,  and  seek  his  child  whilst  there 
was  the  chance. 

When  they  were  seated  in  the  little  stuffy  bar  par- 
lour, waiting  for  the  eggs  and  bacon  being  duly  pre- 
pared for  them,  Dr.  Burton  made  another  effort  on 
behalf  of  the  young  girl  he  had  tried  to  befriend  and 
which  had  so  far  ended  with  such  disastrous  results. 

"  Don't  you  think,  Gurney,  instead  of  taking  the 
trap  back  to  Wellston  Junction,  we  had  better  go 
home  by  way  of  Bayhaven  and  see  what  has  become 
of  the  girl  ?  At  least  we  can  ask  for  this  man  Cas- 
telli  and  learn  the  truth.  We  could  pay  the  driver 
and  send  him  off  at  once.  It  is  our  duty,  Gurney  ; 
your  daughter  has  been  led  away.  Don't  be  too 
hard,  but  save  her  if  you  can." 

"I  shall  go  back  the  way  I  came,  as  I  said  before. 
You  can  please  yourself,  but  I  think  you're  making 
a  confounded  fuss  over  a  girl  that  never  belonged 
to  you.  If  I  choose  to  disclaim  her,  I  suppose  I 
can." 

"No  fuss,  Gurney.  The  girl  is  to  blame:  but  I 
do  think  humanity  should  make  you  more  kindly, 
more  anxious  to  rescue  your  child  from  perhaps  sin 
and  shame." 

The  lunch  coming  in  interrupted  the  conversation 
for  a  while,  and  the  doctor  did  not  allude  to  the  sub- 
ject again  until  they  were  strolling  afterwards  on  the 
cliffs. 

"We  shall  lose  this  train  anyhow,  Gurney.     See 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST. 


73 


how  clear  the  water  looks.  Shall  we  go  down  to 
the  beach  ? " 

Down  to  the  beach  they  went,  the  beach  which  had 
been  the  trysting  place  of  Gurney's  daughter  and 
Castelli,  and  where  their  troth  had  been  plighted  and 
their  marriage  arranged ;  but  neither  of  the  men 
knew  this. 

And  the  sand  and  stones  around  them  were 
dumb. 

"Gurney,  what  are  you  going  to  do  ?" 

The  doctor's  persistency  angered  Gurney,  and  he 
turned  to  him  defiantly. 

"Look  here,  sir,  she  has  gone,  and  I  forbid  you 
to  speak  her  name  to  me  again — a  girl  that  goes  off 
and  marries  a  man  no  better  than  a  groom,  or  doesn't 
marry  her,  that's  more  like  it,"  he  cried  passionately. 
"It's  the  cursed  mother  in  the  child;  the  same 
treachery  over  again,  the  same  heartless  ingratitude, 
the  same  bad  passions,  and  yet  you  bid  me  seek 
her,  the  daughter  of  the  sinful,  wretched  mother — a 
woman  no  better  than  one  who  haunts  the  streets." 

"Hush,  hush,  Gurney.  She  was  your  wife,"  said 
the  doctor  gently. 

"Wife!"  he  hissed.  "A  wife  without  honour,  a 
wife  without  shame,  a  woman  who  rushed  to  her 
ruin.  Let  her  perish,  as  she  deserves,  and  the  girl 
too.  She  shall  live  her  wretched,  honour-stained  life 
alone.  Those  who  have  the  prize  can  keep  it.  I 
renounce  her  for  ever.  She  deserves  her  fate,  the 
daughter  of  an  accursed  mother.  I  shall  never  de- 
plore their  loss.  And  now  we  had  better  drop  the 
subject  for  ever.  It's  nothing  to  you,  and  if  I  choose 
to  adopt  measures  you  don't  like,  be  good  enough 
to  keep  your  own  counsel." 

"Certainly,"  replied  the  doctor  stiffly.  "But  the 
day  will  come,  Mr.  Gurney,  when  you  will  repent 
your  decision." 

"That,  too,  is  my  concern." 

The  two  men  travelled  home  together,  scarcely 


74 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 


addressing  a  word  to  each  other  on  the  journey. 
When  they  arrived  at  the  village  station  the  doctor 
put  out  his  hand  towards  Charles  Gurney. 

"Good-night,  sir.  I  don't  think  we  need  meet 
again,  unless  I  am  required  in  my  professional  capa- 
city. " 

"  Please  yourself,"  replied  Charles  Gurney  curtly, 
as  he  turned  away  without  taking  the  proffered 
hand. 

"What  a  cruel,  wretched  man  he  is,"  murmured 
the  doctor  on  his  way  home.  "  No  feeling  for  those 
he  should  have  loved,  no  heart.  Brutal,  that's  what 
he  is,  perfectly  brutal.  I'll  have  no  more  to  say  to 
him.  I  wish  I'd  never  seen  the  girl.  But  perhaps, 
after  all,  she  is  happier  away  from  her  unnatural 
father.  I  hope  she  is." 

He  was  glad  to  be  at  home  again,  and  whilst  he 
enjoyed  his  tea  with  his  wife  and  little  chattering 
daughter,  Charles  Gurney  walked  up  and  down  his 
small  sitting-room.  The  defiant,  scornful  look  had 
died  from  his  face,  and  one  of  anguish  had  taken  its 
place. 

Away  from  curious  gaze,  the  strong  man  gave  way 
to  feelings  which  he  thought  long  since  gone.  The 
conduct  of  his  daughter  had  brought  back,  in  some 
extraordinary  manner,  softer  thoughts  of  his  wife, 
and  as  he  paced  the  room  he  spoke  aloud. 

"  No  one  can  heal  a  bruised  and  broken  heart, 
and  I  loved  her  so  dearly.  Heaven  has  doomed 
me.  I  have  had  to  part  with  all  I  cherished.  All 
have  forsaken  me.  First  my  wife  went,  then  the 
boy — but  God  speed  him — and  now,  to-day,  the  last 
has  gone.  Men  talk  of  affection.  What  is  it?  But 
the  blossom  on  the  spray  for  a  time.  Then  some 
rude  hand  dashes  it  to  the  ground,  and  there  it  lies 
and  withers,  with  none  to  heed  its  pain.  I  can  never 
forget  her — wife — mother.  She  left  me,  and  un- 
heard, unpitied  I  complain.'  If  she  lives,  she  smiles 
perchance,  but  not  for  me.  I  don't  know  her  des- 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  75 

tiny,  whether  she  is  dead  or  not,  but  thoughts  of 
her  come  to  me  with  the  loss  of  other  and  happier 
days." 

His  face  suddenly  changed,  and  it  was  terrible  to 
see.  It  grew  white  and  passionate.  His  eyes  were 
sullen,  and  the  old  fixed,  leaden  expression  came 
round  his  mouth.  The  tender  feelings  were  gone. 
They  were  but  a  remembrance  come  back  to  make 
the  present  more  miserable  by  comparison. 

Forgive  them — never — never.  Let  the  broken  vows 
of  the  adulterous  wife  be  accursed.  Let  the  sinning 
daughter  fall  into  the  shades  of  hell  as  the  mother 
had.  They  were  best  there — forgotten — hated — de- 
spised. 

Pity  or  compassion  he  had  none. 


76  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

CHAPTER  VII. 

JACTA    EST    ALEA. 

Two  days  after  Leila  Gurney  had  left  Sandcliff  she 
became,  by  special  license,  Mrs.  Emilio  Castelli.  On 
the  morning'  of  her  bridal  day  she  had  felt  very  lonely 
and  ill  at  ease,  and  it  took  a  great  deal  of  gentleness 
and  kindness  on  Castelli's  part  to  reassure  her  and 
bring  the  smile  back  to  her  face. 

The  early  day  had  been  stormy  and  wild.  The 
great  trooping  masses  of  clouds  muttered  in  angry 
thunder  tones,  and  flashes  of  lightning  gleamed  across 
the  sky.  The  sea's  trembling  waves  rose  with  wilder 
swell,  and  the  wind  sighed  gently  and  moaned  as  if 
in  anguish.  It  seemed  to  be  chanting  a  dirge  for  the 
dead. 

All  this  had  tended  to  depress  her.  She  took  the 
storm  to  be  an  ill-omen,  the  voice  of  prophecy  des- 
tined by  Nature  to  warn  her  of  the  dark  shadows 
which  lay  before  her  in  the  years  to  come. 

Castelli  laughed  when  she  told  him  her  fears,  and 
said  kindly, — 

"The  storm  cannot  last  forever,  Leila  ;  the  sun 
must  come  out  again.  Don't  fret,  my  darling.  I 
hope  your  life  will  be  all  happiness  despite  the  tem- 
pest. " 

"Perhaps  it  will  be  like  the  rainbow  when  the 
storm  has  passed,  all  colours,  all  brightness." 

He  kissed  her,  and  she  was  once  more  satisfied. 

Another  hour  and  the  wedding  was  over.  There 
had  been  no  one  present  but  Whanks  and  the  clerk 
as  witnesses.  The  clergyman,  an  old  man,  hurried 
carelessly  over  the  service,  scarcely  evincing  any  in- 
terest in  the  contracting  parties.  He  never  altered 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST.  77 

the  monotone  in  his  voice  excepting  twice,  when  two 
awful  crashes  of  thunder  seemed  to  burst  right  over 
the  tiny  church.  When  they  had  signed  their  names 
in  the  vestry  he  bid  them  "Godspeed,"  and  that  was 
all.  He  had  done  his  share  of  the  duty,  the  rest 
never  troubled  him. 

Leila  looked  up  at  him  once,  just  before  she  left  the 
vestry,  hoping  he  would  smile  at  her.  She  longed 
for  one  congratulation,  one  kindly  word  of  encourage- 
ment, one  benison  on  her  marriage  day.  But  he 
offered  her  none.  He  began  to  disrobe  in  a  most  off- 
hand and  practical  manner,  and  the  newly  married 
pair  left  the  church  as  quietly  as  they  had  entered. 
Outside  the  porch  they  found  Whanks,  who  held  out 
his  hand  to  the  bride. 

"Every  blessing  shine  on  you,  Miss  Leila  ;  oh,  I 
beg  pardon,  madam.  You  see  it's  rather  hard  to 
change  your  name  all  of  a  sudden  like.  I  wish  I  had 
my  aunt's  money,  then  I  should  get  spliced  too.  I 
hope  you'll  both  be  happy,  sir,"  he  added,  turning  to 
his  master,  "that  I  do." 

Leila  shook  hands  with  him,  and  her  husband  did 
the  same.  She  could  not  thank  him,  for  she  was 
choking  down  the  sobs  which  his  kind  words  had 
called  forth. 

"  You're  a  good  fellow,  Whanks,"  said  his  master, 
"and  we  are  both  grateful  for  your  kind  wishes." 

They  walked  back  to  the  apartments  quietly,  arm- 
in-arm,  with  Whanks  in  the  rear.  The  thunder  had 
ceased,  the  clouds  were  breaking,  showing  bright 
blue  beyond,  the  wind  had  dropped  and  the  heat  was 
almost  oppressive. 

After  luncheon  Leila  decided  to  write  to  her  father 
at  once.  He  would  have  to  be  told,  and  the  sooner 
the  better.  She  despatched  her  letter,  and  then  she 
and  Castelli  started  for  a  drive. 

How  beautiful  looked  the  summer  afternoon.  All 
traces  of  the  storm  had  gone.  There  was  joy  and 
life  all  around.  The  birds  sang  with  all  their  might, 


78  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

as  if  keeping  high  revel  and  exulting  in  gladness  as 
they  flitted  amongst  the  hedges  or  darted  into  the 
bushes,  too  happy  to  do  aught  but  clap  their  wings 
and  proclaim  their  welcome  to  the  smiling  earth. 

The  softness  of  the  day  gave  Leila  a  feeling  of  lan- 
guor and  repose,  and  the  calm,  placid  sky  shed  a 
halo  over  her  mind,  and  for  the  time  entranced  her 
senses,  like  the  sweetest  music  stealing  over  a  rest- 
less spirit. 

As  she  drove  it  seemed  as  if  the  air  kissed  her  with 
a  breath  of  love.  In  the  distance  the  sea  murmured 
soothingly,  and  the  cliffs  and  the  fields  breathed  out 
visions  of  radiant  joy  and  enduring  love. 

She  was  so  happy  in  her  dream  of  youth.  There 
were  no  sombre  clouds  with  angry  rugged  edges  seen 
on  the  horizon  as  yet  All  was  light  and  hope. 

After  her  marriage  she  was  somewhat  disappointed 
to  learn  that  she  was  not  to  reside  in  Bayhaven  as 
long  as  the  circus  was  there,  but  upon  this  point  her 
husband  was  gently  firm. 

"  It's  no  place  for  you,  my  darling,"  he  had  said 
kindly.  "In  another  month  we  shall  have  to  go  to 
Manchester,  and  then  you  shall  go  with  me  now  and 
then  to  the  ciicus  ;  but  we  have  rather  a  rough  lot 
here  just  now,  and  you  would  not  like  to  meet  Cleo 
again,  would  you?" 

"No,"  she  replied,  "I  should  not.  Where  is  she 
now  ?  " 

"  Down  at  the  show." 

But  he  did  not  add  that  he  had  made  her  so  un- 
comfortable that  she  had  been  glad  to  arrange  to 
leave  at  the  end  of  the  week  and  take  a  Continental 
engagement. 

The  fact  was,  however,  that  he  did  not  wish  his 
wife  to  be  too  rudely  introduced  to  the  life.  He 
dreaded  her  learning  the  truth  all  at  once.  Some  day 
she  must  know  all  the  secrets  and  the  cruelties,  but 
at  present  it  pleased  him  to  keep  her  innocent  of  all 
iruile. 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST.  79 

"I  shall  be  so  dull  here  all  day  alone/'  she  said  to 
him. 

"Oh,  no,  my  darling.  You  will  have  your  dog, 
and  Athol,  also  a  horse  to  ride,  and  books,  and  I 
might  get  some  of  the  fishermen  to  give  you  a  row 
for  an  hour  each  day." 

"  But  you  will  have  to  go  so  early  every  morning, 
and  won't  be  back  until  late  at  night." 

Her  voice  fell,  her  eyes  filled  with  tears  at  the 
thought. 

Most  men  would  have  given  way  when  they  saw 
the  upturned,  anxious  face,  but  Castelli  only  put  back 
the  golden  curls  and  kissed  her  tenderly. 

"  What !  tears,  and  only  married  two  days  ?  Come, 
come,  I  must  have  my  sunbeam  all  smiles,  and  she 
must  remember  that  if  Bayhaven  was  the  best  place 
for  her  she  should  go.  But  believe  me,  darling,  I 
am  doing  what  is  kindest  for  you.  And  there  is 
Manchester  in  view  next  month,  and  then  you  won't 
be  dull." 

Kind  as  he  was,  she  felt  she  could  not  contradict 
him.  He  possessed  some  power  which  held  her 
completely  under  his  control,  and  she  replied, — 

"  I'm  sure  you  do  the  best  you  can  for  me,  and 
I  won't  grumble  any  more.  I  wish  father  would 
answer  my  letter.  Do  you  think  he  will  ? "  she 
asked  him  anxiously. 

"  Not  just  yet,  perhaps,  my  darling.  He  will  wait 
a  little  while.  You  see  he  must  feel  rather  riled  to 
find  his  daughter  fled  and  married  ;  and  fathers  don't 
always  forgive  in  a  hurry."  Observing  her  disap- 
pointed look,  he  added  :  "There  is  very  little  time 
gone  by.  It  will  all  come  right  if  you  ddn't  \vorry." 

The  next  day  Castelli's  holiday  came  to  an  end, 
and  he  went  back  to  his  duties.  When  he  arrived  at 
the  circus  he  found  several  letters  awaiting  him. 
They  were  all  on  business  save  one,  and  that  came 
from  Leila's  father,  and  its  contents  ran  : — 


8o  SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST. 

"HEATH  COTTAGE, 
BRIARHILL. 

"SiR — I  am  told  you  have  married  my  daughter. 
If  it  is  so,  which  I  doubt,  I  wish  you  joy  of  her. 
The  child  who  leaves  home  and  friends,  and  bolts 
with  a  groom,  will  surely  make  a  good  wife.  She 
inherits  sufficient  of  her  mother's  good  qualities  to 
make  her  turn  out  a  devil  by-and-by.  The  girl  is 
the  offspring  of  a  wicked  woman,  who  left  me  and 
her  children.  This,  I  hope,  will  be  a  strong  recom- 
mendation for  her. 

"When  you  have  tired  of  her  I  have  no  doubt  her 
excellent  mother  will  undertake  the  rest  of  her  edu- 
cation, and  cultivate  her  mind,  soul,  and  body  in 
order  that  she  may  follow  in  her  footsteps. 

' '  CHARLES  GURNEY.  " 

After  Castelli  had  read  this  scurrilous  and  sarcastic 
letter  he  pondered  in  his  own  mind  whether  he  should 
show  it  to  Leila  or  consign  it  to  destruction  at  once. 
He  picked  up  the  envelope  and  found  it  contained  an- 
other letter,  addressed  to  his  wife,  but  securely  sealed. 
Then  he  decided  to  let  her  see  his  letter. 

When  he  arrived  home  he  gave  the  sealed  missive 
to  Leila,  who  changed  colour  rapidly  as  she  opened 
and  read  it : — 

"Child  of  your  miserable,  unhappy  mother,  so  you 
have  found  your  level — the  level  made  for  you  by 
that  woman,  my  wife.  Her  daughter  could  not  be 
pure  as  others  are.  Your  blood  is  tainted  ;  nothing 
can  purify  it 

"Married,  are  you?  Well,  that  is  no  business  of 
mine.  I  d"on't  care  what  you  are,  but  remember, 
when  the  scoundrel  you  are  with  has  cast  you  off, 
don't  come  to  me  for  mercy.  As  you  have  made 
your  bed,  so  you  must  lie  on  it.  I  would  not  give 
you,  a  castaway,  shelter  even  if  you  lay  in  the  gutter 
at  my  door.  This  is  all  I  shall  ever  write  to  you. 

' '  CHARLES  GURNEY.  " 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  8 1 

Leila  had  never  loved  her  father  very  dearly,  but 
his  letter  was  a  terrible  blow  to  her.  She  turned  so 
white  that  Castelli  hurried  to  her  side. 

"  It  is  bad  news,  my  darling,  isn't  it?  " 

"Yes,  read  it,"  she  answered  faintly. 

He  perused  the  cruel  lines,  and  hard  and  stern  as 
he  was,  his  sorrow  and  sympathy  for  his  young  wife 
was  deep  and  sincere. 

"  Never  fear,  my  pet,  he'll  forgive  you  some  day. 
That  letter  has  been  written  on  the  spur  of  the  moment. 
I  also  have  had  one  from  him.  I  think  you  had 
better  read  it — there  should  be  no  secrets  between 
husband  and  wife." 

She  laid  both  letters  down  on  the  table  with  a  sigh. 
For  the  time  her  happiness  was  gone.  A  cloud  had 
cast  its  gloom  over  the  shining  star;  its  brilliancy 
had  declined. 

"Leila,"  said  Castelli  quietly,  "before  we  were 
married  you  led  me  to  suppose  your  mother  was 
dead  ;  is  it  true  she  ran  away  from  your  father  ?  " 

He  waited  for  her  reply. 

The  crimson  blood  rushed  to  the  fair  cheeks.  She 
put  her  hands  to  her  face,  as  if  to  conceal  her  shame 
from  his  gaze. 

"Yes,  yes,  it  is  true — all  true." 

"Never  mind,  darling,  I  think  no  worse  of  you  for 
your  mother's  faults.  But  why  did  you  not  tell  me 
before?  I  thought  you  had  lost  her  by  death." 

"Why  did  I  not  tell  you  ?"  she  said,  now  roused 
to  excitement.  "  Why  should  I  spread  my  mother's 
shame  abroad?  Was  it  not  hard  enough  to  bear 
without  that?  Was  all  my  happiness  to  be  ruined 
for  her  sin  ?  I  tried  to  forget  she  ever  lived,  tried  to 
forget  all  the  misery  she  brought  to  us,  and  the  loss 
of  our  home.  Oh,  how  happy  we  were," she  con- 
tinued, "father,  mother,  Tom  and  I,  all  together  at 
home!  Her  sin  will  always  cling  to  me;  I  must  bear 
the  burden — it  is  cruel,  cruel !  " 

She  sobbed  aloud,  and  Castelli  was  really  distressed. 
6 


8*  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

"  I  don't  visit  the  sins  of  a  mother  upon  the  child 
if  others  do,"  he  replied  kindly.  "You  are  just  as 
precious  to  me.  Whatever  your  mother  is  has  noth- 
ing to  do  with  me." 

She  kissed  him,  and  he  put  his  arms  round  her  and 
did  his  best  to  comfort  her. 

"Come,  now,  what  have  you  been  doing  to-day?  " 
he  asked,  anxious  to  turn  the  conversation. 

"  Reading  Pope's  Homer,  and  of  the  high  esteem 
horses  were  held  in  when  they  first  came  into  Greece. 
I  was  so  amused,  because  in  the  fifteenth  Iliad  they 
speak  of  an  extraordinary  feat  of  activity  where  one 
man  manages  four  horses  at  once,  and  leaps  from 
the  back  of  one  to  another  when  going  at  full  speed. 
Why,  I  saw  that  done  in  a  circus  years  ago  by  quite 
a  boy. " 

She  laughed  gaily  at  the  idea,  and  Castelli,  taking 
up  the  cue,  related  anecdote  after  anecdote  about  his 
horses. 

And  so  the  smiles  returned,  as  the  sun  shines  after 
the  April  shower. 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST.  83 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

HORROX. 

Six  happy  months  had  glided  on.  Leila  was  as 
joyous  as  on  the  day  Castelli  had  made  her  his  bride. 
She  had  been  treated  with  the  greatest  kindness  and 
consideration,  and  in  each  place  they  visited  her  com- 
fort had  been  her  husband's  chief  thought  and  care. 

Of  the  actual  circus  life  she  had  seen  very  little. 
Two  or  three  times  she  had  occupied  a  stall  to  see 
the  performance,  but  she  had  never  been  behind  the 
scenes. 

Some  of  the  company  had  for  fun  now  and  then 
twitted  Castelli  upon  his  marriage,  and  asked  him  to 
"  show  up  the  lady."  "  What  on  earth  do  you  keep 
her  shut  in  for  ?  "  one  of  them  would  ask  ;  and  another 
would  say,  "  She's  too  good  for  us,  I  suppose,  a 
kind  of  angel  all  to  herself." 

To  all  these  taunts  Castelli  turned  a  deaf  ear.  If 
they  pleased  them  it  pleased  him  equally  well  to  keep 
his  wife  to  himself. 

Sometimes,  when  Leila  was  alone,  she  would  won- 
der why  the  horses  in  the  ring  looked  so  scared  at 
the  trainer,  and  why  their  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the 
thin  small  whip  he  held  before  them.  Castelli  had 
told  her,  in  answer  to  her  questions,  that  all  horses 
did  the  same,  and  she  believed  him  implicitly. 

One  evening,  when  she  came  home  from  a  per- 
formance, she  spoke  to  her  husband  again  on  the 
subject,  which  had  lately  filled  her  mind  and  given 
her  a  certain  amount  of  uneasiness.  She  had  wit- 
nessed the  performance  of  a  troupe  of  acrobats, 
and  one  little  sad-faced  boy  of  very  tender  years  had 
aroused  her  sympathy. 


84  SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST, 

As  usual  Castelli  had  put  her  off  with  explanations 
which  seemed  to  be  truth,  but  she  had  no  means  of 
going  into  the  rights  and  wrongs  of  the  case,  and 
her  husband  had  no  intention  of  going  into  details. 
But  still  the  white  face  haunted  her,  and  the  thin 
arms  and  heavy  breathing  were  present  in  her  mind  ; 
she  could  not  forget  him,  and  was  only  partially  sat- 
isfied that  all  was  well. 

For  some  time  after  this  Castelli  kept  her  from  the 
circus,  under  one  pretext  or  another,  but  he  was  be- 
ginning to  tire  of  the  constant  vigilance  necessary 
to  keep  his  wife  in  ignorance,  and  when  they  arrived 
in  Leeds  he  took  her  to  professional  apartments,  in 
which  another  member  of  the  circus  with  his  troupe 
lodged,  and  here  it  was  that  Leila  first  learnt  the 
horrors  daily  practised  on  some  of  those  who  are 
trained  by  an  atrocious  system. 

"The  Gaarez  Family"  occupied  the  ground  floor 
of  the  house  and  also  the  top  rooms,  whilst  Leila  and 
her  husband  had  the  drawing-room  floor.  This  ar- 
rangement led  to  the  troupe  constantly  passing  her 
doors  on  their  way  to  the  higher  story.  She  soon 
discovered  that  there  were  six  of  them,  the  eldest 
girl  being  about  fourteen  years  of  age.  There  was 
only  one  boy,  by  name  Willie,  a  sickly,  wan  child 
of  seven  summers.  In  these  children  her  curiosity 
was  soon  aroused.  When  they  passed  her  they 
never  spoke,  only  giving  her  a  frightened  glance. 
She  never  had  seen  children  behave  so  before,  and 
this  set  her  wondering.  At  last  she  questioned  Cas- 
telli, as  they  sat  at  supper  one  evening. 

"  I  should  like  to  see  those  children  who  live 
downstairs  perform.  How  miserable  they  do  look. 
Is  Horrox  their  father?  and  where  is  their  mother?  " 
asked  Leila. 

Her  husband  frowned  a  little,  but  he  was  too  wise 
to  lose  his  temper  over  her  perpetual  questioning. 

"  No,  he  is  not  their  father,  Leila.  Probably  there 
are  six  different  mothers.  They  are  not  related ; 


SLA  FES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  85 

they  are  children  he  has  taken  and  trained.  He 
allows  each  mother  so  much  a  week  and  takes  all 
they  earn  for  himself,"  replied  Castelli  quietly. 

"Why  do  they  call  themselves  'The  Guarez 
Family'  if  they  are  not  one  family?  And  they  call 
Horrox  father.  I  cannot  understand  what  it  means," 
said  Leila,  somewhat  vexed  at  the  deception  around 
her. 

"  Look  here,  my  dear,"  said  Castelli,  \vith  just  a 
little  tone  of  irritation  in  his  voice,  <c  it  is  the  custom 
for  children  who  perform  together  to  be  called  '  a 
family,'  and  the  trainer  is  always  the  father ;  it's 
more  convenient  altogether.  In  the  bills  '  The 
Guarez  Family,'  sounds  more  complete  than  calling 
them  all  by  separate  names  ;  it  could  not  be  done. 
Sometimes  it  is  troupe,  not  family." 

"  It  is  not  true  at  any  rate,"  said  Leila. 

"  Quite,  as  the  profession  accept  the  term,"  replied 
Castelli.  "It's  no  use  your  worrying,  my  dear, 
about  things  that  cannot  be  helped." 

"  I  must,"  said  Leila  somewhat  hotly,  "  when  I 
see  things  and  hear,  too,  what  I  do  not  like  or  under- 
stand. I  am  firmly  convinced  Horrox  is  a  cruel  man, 
and  I  shall  find  out  if  he  is.  In  the  morning,  when 
you  are  away  at  the  circus,  I  hear  moans  and  faint 
screams,  and  loud  voices  and  awful  language.  There 
must  be  some  reason.  Why  will  you  not  tell  me  the 
truth,  Emilio?" 

"  You  are  mistaken,  Leila.  The  children  practise 
in  the  top  room,  and  perhaps  you  hear  a  scream  when 
they  fall  and  get  frightened.  And  as  to  your  finding 
out  whether  or  not  Horrox  is  cruel,  take  my  advice 
and  leave  him  alone.  You  would  not  like  him  to 
come  up  here  and  inquire  about  me,  and  he  in  his 
place  will  not  like  to  find  my  wife  asking  impertinent 
questions." 

As  he  finished  speaking  he  pushed  his  plate  on  one 
side  and  took  up  a  paper,  as  if  further  conversation 
on  the  subject  would  not  be  agreeable  to  him. 


86  SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST. 

Leila  sighed.  She  felt  somewhat  hurt  by  his 
manner.  Why  should  he  always  avoid  speaking  to 
her  about  the  children  engaged  in  the  circus  ? 

He  heard  her  sigh,  and  he  turned  to  her  kindly. 

"  Don't  fret,  my  pet.  It's  no  use  talking  over  dis- 
agreeable topics.  I  am  quite  willing  to  own  that 
Horrox  has  to  be  very  strict  with  his  troupe,  and  in 
saying  that  I  have  said  all  I  know  about  him,"  and 
he  kissed  her  tenderly. 

But  Leila  was  not  satisfied.  A  terrible  sense  of 
uneasiness  had  come  over  her.  She  felt  almost  cer- 
tain that  some  hardships,  some  wrong  was  going  on. 

She  was  fully  determined  to  sift  the  matter  for  her- 
self. She  believed  honestly  that  her  husband  was  as 
ignorant  as  she  was  on  the  subject,  therefore  she 
would  be  quite  sure  before  she  spoke  to  him  that 
cruelty  did  exist  If  she  found  the  children  were  ill- 
treated  she  would  ask  his  help  and  assistance. 

The  determination  and  courage  which  had  made 
her  Castelli's  wife  now  stood  her  in  good  stead,  and 
all  her  energy  was  devoted  to  finding  out  what  the 
strange  cries  and  occasional  screams  could  mean. 

One  morning,  some  days  after  her  conversation 
with  her  husband,  she  was  sitting  thinking,  and 
watching  the  busy  street  beneath.  "  Marcus"  was 
asleep  upon  her  lap,  and  her  work  lay  untouched  on 
a  table  by  her  side.  Suddenly  her  reverie  was  broken 
by  a  bitter  cry,  a  cry  so  full  of  pain  and  distress  that 
Leila  jumped  up  hastily  and  opened  the  door.  She 
listened  attentively  for  a  few  moments,  and  then  the 
sound  of  a  child's  voice  reached  her  distinctly.  With- 
out pausing  to  consider,  she  shut  the  dog  in  and  then 
carefully  made  her  way  towards  the  top  staircase, 
for  the  sounds  proceeded  from  that  direction.  The 
children  were  at  practice  in  the  attic  room,  and  thither 
she  determined  to  ascend.  Very  cautiously  she  crept 
up,  waiting  now  and  again,  as  every  step  she  took 
made  a  creaking  sound,  and  she  was  afraid  it  would 
attract  attention  to  her  presence. 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  87 

When  she  reached  the  top  the  door  was  ajar. 
She  peeped  through  the  small  aperture,  scarcely  dar- 
ing to  breathe.  She  could  just  see  from  where  she 
stood  the  little  boy  attired  in  tights.  He  was  deathly 
pale,  whilst  the  perspiration  rolled  down  his  face. 
He  seemed  to  be  trembling  from  head  to  foot. 

"  Are  you  going  to  do  it  or  won't  you  ?  "  asked  the 
angry  voice  of  a  man.  "I'll  take  the  skin  off  your 
back  in  a  moment  if  you  don't.  Go  on." 

"I  can't,  sir,  indeed  I  can't.  I  would  if  I  could," 
replied  a  plaintive  little  voice. 

"You  shall.  Once  more,  will  you  do  what  I  tell 
you  ? " 

The  child  did  not  speak,  he  only  stood  there,  a 
sad,  quivering  little  creature,  with  none  to  help  him 
in  his  awful  ordeal. 

Leila  saw  Horrox  step  up  to  where  the  child  was 
standing.  She  heard  the  thin  stick  he  held  in  his 
hand  whistle  through  the  air  as  it  fell  on  the  defence- 
less boy,  accompanied  by  a  curse. 

"Stop  that,  do  you  hear?"  cried  Leila,  flinging 
open  the  door  and  stepping  hastily  into  the  room. 

The  man  for  a  moment  was  so  astonished  at  the 
intrusion  that  he  was  fairly  taken  aback,  and  the 
child  ran  to  her  for  protection,  calling  as  he  did  so  : 

"  Oh,  save  me,  save  me  !  He  beats  me  dreadfully, 
and  I  can't  do  what  he  wants.  The  bar's  too  high," 
and  he  hid  his  face  in  her  dress. 

Before  her  she  saw  the  tall,  dark,  angry  man, 
with  a  cruel  leering  face  and  cold  fierce  eyes,  but 
this  did  not  daunt  her.  She  was  unaware  of  the 
desperate  nature  of  his  character. 

"What  brings  you  here?"  he  asked  roughly,  ad- 
vancing one  step  nearer  to  her.  "Be  off,  out  of  this 
room,  or  I'll  put  you  out." 

"The  cries  of  pain  from  this  wretched  child 
brought  me  here,"  replied  Leila  angrily.  "  I've 
heard  him  many  times,  and  to-day  I  resolved  to 
come  and  see  for  myself.  I  saw  you  strike  him, 


88  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

poor  child,  but  you  shan't  do  it  again  now  I'm 
here." 

She  spoke  as  if  her  presence  and  strength  were 
sufficient  to  keep  the  enemy  at  bay.  As  yet  she  did 
not  realise  how  powerful  he  was  or  of  what  cruelty 
he  was  capable. 

"Oh,  shan't  I,"  he  replied  tauntingly.  "As  you 
are  fond  of  listening  at  other  people's  doors,  and 
coming  where  you  are  not  invited,  you  can  stay  here 
until  I  choose  to  let  you  go." 

And  before  she  was  aware  of  his  intention  he 
stepped  behind  her  and  locked  the  door.  For  a  mo- 
ment this  disconcerted  her,  and  a  vision  of  her  hus- 
band rose  before  her. 

"Keep  close  to  me,  Willie,"  she  said  as  the  child 
began  to  tremble  again.  "  He  shall  not  hurt  you," 
and  she  put  her  delicate  white  hands  round  the  boy 
as  if  to  protect  him. 

With  a  terrible  oath  Horrox  called  the  boy  to  come 
to  him. 

Leila  felt  the  child  move,  as  if  to  free  himself  from 
her  grasp,  to  obey  the  master's  call. 

"Don't  go  to  him.  I'll  take  care  of  you,  dear," 
she  added  soothingly. 

Another  awful  oath  fell  from  the  man's  lips,  and 
then  Leila  felt  the  boy  torn  from  her  grasp. 

"  You  see  I  happen  to  be  master  here,  and  the 
boy  is  mine." 

"  He  is  not,"  replied  Leila  stoutly,  although  her 
heart  began  to  beat  with  apprehension.  "  My  hus- 
band said  none  of  the  children  were  yours,  and  you 
shall  not  ill-treat  Willie — if  you  do,  there's  the  law 
to  protect  him." 

"I'll  show  you  what  my  law  is,"  he  said,  with  a 
cruel  leer  upon  his  face,  as  he  rapped  his  cane  on 
the  floor. 

"  You  see  that,  don't  you  ? ''  he  said,  clutching  the 
boy  by  the  arm,  and  pointing  to  the  two  horizontal 
bars  placed  in  the  centre  of  the  room,  with  their  steel 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST.  89 

wire  guys  screwed  into  the  floor.  As  he  spoke  he 
thrust  the  child  on  to  the  thin  woollen  mattress  which 
stretched  between  and  beyond  them.  "Now  then, 
one,  two,  three,  jump  and  catch  the  bar  or  I'll  make 
you,  by " 

But  the  feat  was  beyond  the  boy's  power  to  ac- 
complish, and  he  missed  the  bar  by  several  inches. 

Down  came  the  cane  upon  the  thinly  clad  limbs, 
until  the  child  screamed  out  in  his  agony. 

"Oh,  don't,  don't!"  wailed  Leila.  "How  can 
you  be  so  cruel?  " 

But  Horrox  did  not  heed  her  entreaties. 

She  watched  his  face  growing  more  cruel,  more 
fiendish  every  moment. 

"Catch  that  bar,  you  young  fool,"  he  roared,  "  or 
I'll  do  for  you. " 

"I  can't,  indeed  I  can't,"  sobbed  the  frightened 
child. 

' '  Do  it !  do  it !     Do  you  hear  ?  " 

The  child  made  one  more  desperate  attempt  to 
fulfil  his  master's  bidding,  but  alas  !  the  tiny  form 
had  not  the  physical  strength.  It  was  beyond  his 
powers  to  perform  such  a  feat 

"  He  cannot  do  it.  Why  do  you  ask  him  ?  "  cried 
Leila,  almost  in  despair. 

"  He  shall  do  what  I  tell  him  or  I'll  show  you  how 
I  punish  him,"  cried  Horrox  in  a  passion.  "You've 
come  to  see  the  training,  and  see  it  you  shall." 

Again  the  child  tried  and  failed,  falling  with  a  thud 
to  the  mattress. 

In  a  moment,  before  Leila  could  even  guess  his 
intentions,  Horrox  made  a  dash  at  the  boy,  and 
seizing  his  hands,  beat  them  until  the  blood  fell  upon 
the  tiny  tights  in  bright  and  hideous  spots. 

With  a  scream  of  intense  anguish  the  child  sank 
down  to  the  ground,  holding  his  bleeding  hands 
tightly  together,  as  if  to  lull  the  pain. 

"There,  you  young  devil,  if  you  can't  do  the 
work  for  me  you  sha'n't  do  it  for  any  one  else." 


90  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

As  he  spoke  he  kicked  the  boy  savagely.  Leila 
leant  for  support  against  the  door.  She  was  begin- 
ning to  feel  sick  and  ill,  she  gasped  with  difficulty. 

"You  cruel  brute  !     I  will  tell  my  husband." 

She  could  not  say  more,  her  heart  was  beating 
so  fast.  She  was  becoming  afraid  of  the  tyrant  be- 
fore her. 

"Your  husband,  faugh!  He's  a  nice  one,  he  is. 
Look  here,  madam,"  he  continued  in  a  voice  of  sup- 
pressed passion,  "your  husband  is  as  cruel  as  I  am 
—more  so,  he's  a  brute,  if  you  like,  and  it's  only 
because  you're  such  a  silly  doll,  such  a  half-baked 
fool,  that  he  daren't  tell  you  what  he  is.  You've 
never  seen  him  train  his  horses,  have  you,  my  lady 
innocent?"  he  added,  with  a  sneer.  "Before  you 
come  spying  here  again  suppose  you  try  your  luck 
with  him.  Just  take  a  peep  in  the  ring  some  fine 
morning  when  he's  rehearsing  ;  you'll  see  another 
show  equal  to  this,  perhaps  a  little  more  spiced." 

The  child  moaned  and  sobbed  under  his  breath, 
and  this  again  roused  the  man's  anger. 

"  Hold  that  infernal  row  or  I'll  thrash  you  again." 

There  was  almost  silence  in  the  room.  Leila  was 
breathing  hard  and  the  boy  hushed  his  sobs.  Hor- 
rox,  thinking  a  fainting  woman  would  be  a  nuisance, 
and  rather  fearing  Castelli's  wrath,  moved  towards 
the  door. 

"Stop  !  "  said  Leila  suddenly,  as  if  gaining  cour- 
age from  his  action.  "My  husband  has  never  been 
guilty  of  cruelty.  You  lie  !  He's  the  kindest,  the 
best  man  that  ever  lived ;  but  you — but  you — you're 
a  cruel  devil."  And  then  she  turned  to  the  child, 
who  sat  shivering  with  fear  and  deadly  white.  "  I'll 
help  you,  Willie  dear;  wait  until  to-night  and  you 
shall  be  saved  from  that  brute,"  and  she  pointed 
towards  Horrox,  with  horror  and  disgust  written 
upon  the  handsome  face. 

"Ha,  ha,  ha!"  he  laughed  rudely,  unlocking  the 
door,  "  it  has  given  me  much  pleasure  to  introduce 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST.  9 1 

you  to  the  'profession,'  and  it  has  saved  your  dear, 
good — oh,  kind,  isn't  it  ?- — husband  a  disagreeable 
job." 

He  pushed  her  out  of  the  room  as  he  spoke. 

Dizzy,  faint,  and  sick  as  she  was  she  pleaded  once 
more  for  the  child. 

"Don't  hurt  him  again,  he  is  so  small;  promise 
me  you  won't,  before  I  go." 

"You  be  damned  !  You  won't  get  over  me  with 
your  pretty  face  and  cunning  ways.  Leave  the  boy 
to  me;  I'll  square  him  directly." 

"Then  I  shall  appeal  to  a  police  officer,  and  take 
out  a  summons  against  you  directly  my  husband 
comes  in." 

"Oh,  I  would  if  I  were  you.  Your  husband  will 
tell  you  how  to  go  about  it.  He's  so  good  and  kind, 
you  know,"  he  added,  with  a  sneer. 

She  went  to  her  room  and  wept. 

The  sadness  of  the  child's  face  and  his  faint  pathetic 
cry  for  mercy  had  entered  her  soul  like  a  knife, 
poisoning  her  fresh  young  life.  In  that  hour  she  had 
grown  years  older.  Youth  had  suddenly  withdrawn 
its  magic  wand. 

Time  went  on  and  she  still  sat  thinking,  until  a 
telegram  was  handed  her  by  the  landlady's  daughter. 
It  was  from  her  husband,  to  save  her  anxiety  respect- 
ing his  non-return  to  dinner.  Ever  since  they  were 
married  he  had  never  neglected  to  send  her  a  word 
if  business  detained  him.  She  knew  it  would  be  late 
before  she  saw  him,  and  so  she  determined  to  act 
upon  her  own  judgment  with  regard  to  the  ill-treated 
child. 

She  hurried  down  to  the  police  court,  and  after 
having  seen  the  superintendent  of  police,  she  laid  a 
formal  charge  against  Horrox.  She  was  promised 
that  a  summons  should  be  served  upon  him  and  the 
child  duly  examined  at  the  court. 

Having  completed  the  arrangements  she  felt  hap- 
pier, but  her  anxiety  to  hear  more  of  the  children 


92  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDLST. 

induced  her  to  seek  the  landlady,  to  whom  she  was 
determined  to  relate  the  whole  circumstances. 

That  evening,  seated  in  the  old-fashioned  sitting- 
room,  she  told  her  story  of  what  she  had  seen,  ex- 
pecting the  landlady  to  be  surprised  and  horrified  as 
was  she  herself,  but  to  her  astonishment  she  received 
the  intelligence  very  quietly. 

"He's  the  wust  trainer  I've  ever  had  here,"  she 
began.  "There's  been  nothing  but  bothers  since  he 
came.  Some  of  them  is  very  respectable,  but  this 
Horrox  is  a  regular  brute  to  them  youngsters.  Any- 
how he  won't  stay  here.  Ah,  you  don't  know  as  much 
as  I  do  as  to  how  them  children  suffer." 

"They  won't  suffer  much  more,"  added  Leila.  "  I 
have  been  after  a  summons.  It  will  be  served  upon 
him  to-morrow,  and  that  will  end  it" 

She  spoke  quietly,  as  if  she  had  done  no  uncommon 
thing. 

"What — what!"  exclaimed  the  astonished  land- 
lady. ' '  You've  done  what  ?  " 

"Been  to  the  police  court  and  told  them  how  the 
child  is  treated.  Surely  that  was  the  right  course  to 
pursue  ? " 

' '  Oh,  my  dear,  what  ever  will  your  husband  say 
when  he  hears  of  it  ?  One  professional  never  does 
that  to  another.  I'm  afraid  there'll  be  a  terrible  shine, 
that  I  do.  But  still  if  I  can  help  you  I  will,  for  I've 
seen  enough  to  make  me  sick  of  circus  folk  for  many 
a  long  day.  I  shall  try  actors  next,  I  think.  My 
house  ain't  bad,  is  it  ?  "  she  asked,  looking  round 
with  an  admiring  gaze. 

"It's  a  very  nice  house  ;  anything  would  be  better 
than  tolerating  cruelty,  and  even  if  my  husband  is 
vexed  at  the  step  I  have  taken,  I  shall  still  feel  I  have 
done  my  duty." 

"Well,  I'm  glad  I'm  not  in  your  shoes  anyway. 
As  you  have  done  the  deed,  I  don't  mind  backing 
you  up,"  replied  the  woman  emphatically. 

"You  must  tell  the  truth  if  you  are  questioned," 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  93 

said  Leila  gravely.  "  But  tell  me,  what  do  you  know 
of  this  '  Guarez  Family  ?  ' " 

"Oh!  I'll  tell  you  all  I  know,"  said  the  woman 
willingly.  "They  came  to  lodge  with  me  some 
months  ago  ;  there's  six  of  them — five  girls  and  one 
boy.  That  eldest  girl,  Alice,  as  they  call  her,  was 
taken  very  ill  after  they  came  here  with  low  fever. 
Horrox  got  tired  after  a  time  of  looking  after  her,  and 
one  night  the  girl  was  made  to  perform  on  the  tra- 
peze, ill  and  weak  as  she  was.  Later  on  in  the  same 
evening  she  did  acrobat  work,  flip-flaps  and  other 
tricks,  such  as  supporting  four  of  the  other  children 
on  her  shoulders  and  holding  them  out  by  her  hands. 
When  she  came  home  he  abused  her  awfully.  I  was 
that  sorry  for  her  that  the  next  day  I  made  a  point 
of  watching  for  her  to  see  if  I  could  speak  to  her 
alone,  but  I  got  no  chance.  The  children  are  never 
allowed  to  receive  letters  ;  and  once  when  one  came 
for  Alice  I  managed  to  smuggle  it  to  heron  the  stairs, 
but  he  beat  her  later  when  he  found  it  out ;  indeed 
he  works  them  all  day  and  thrashes  them  cruelly.  I 
caught  him  once  beating  Alice  with  a  broom  handle. 
I  interfered  several  times,  but  having  no  husband,  I 
am  really  afraid  to  go  near  him.  To-day  the  boy 
came  down  for  some  hot  water.  I  asked  him  what 
ailed  his  hands,  for  they  were  bandaged.  He  said 
he  had  burnt  them.  You  see  he  dared  not  tell  me. 
But  I  knew  they  hadn't  a  fire  upstairs.  I  took  him 
into  my  room  and  gave  him  an  orange  and  then 
the  little  man  told  me  the  truth.  Bless  his  heart  !  I 
could  have  cried,  that  I  could.  I  made  up  my  mind 
then  and  there  that  Horrox  should  pack  up  his  traps 
and  go,  and  so  he  shall." 

"Why  don't  they  run  away?"  asked  Leila,  who 
had  grown  pale  and  troubled  during  the  narrative. 

"They're  all  apprenticed  to  him,  my  dear.  He 
pays  the  parents  perhaps  as  much  as  thirty  shillings 
a  week  for  the  use  of  the  elder  children.  And  those 
kind  of  parents  don't  care  as  long  as  the  man  sends 


94 


SLA  YES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 


the  money.  And  where  are  they  going  to  run,  with 
no  one  to  take  them  in  ?  No  clothes,  no  money, 
although  Alice  did  tell  me  she'd  run  away  at  the  first 
opportunity." 

"  Why  don't  they  tell  someone — a  policeman — in 
the  street  ?  "  asked  Leila  innocently. 

"Why,  bless  you,  they  never  go  out  alone.  He's 
too  sharp  for  that,"  said  the  woman  knowingly  ; 
"and  several  times,  when  the  children  have  by  some 
means  reached  the  police,  the  trainers  get  them  off 
to  the  Continent  That's  what  Horrox  will  do  long 
before  the  summons  comes  on  for  hearing.  You'll 
have  your  trouble  for  nothing  I  believe.'' 

"Surely  the  law  will  protect  the  children,"  said 
Leila  somewhat  sadly.  "I  must  try  to  do  what  I 
can." 

She  was  determined  to  strike  at  theroot  of  the  evil, 
to  expose  rudely  the  horrors  she  had  witnessed,  to 
prevent,  if  possible,  the  children  being  shut  out  from 
protection  and  being  forgotten  by  the  world's  thought- 
less, forgetting  throng. 

Leila  went  to  her  room  that  night  a  saddened 
woman.  She  was  stricken  with  a  terrible  dread. 
She  had  just  begun  to  know,  feel,  and  seethe  care 
and  pain  which  children  bear  for  the  people's  pleas- 
ure. Death,  she  thought,  would  be  mercy  compared 
with  the  daily  toil  and  anguish  suffered  so  patiently, 
so  uncomplainingly. 

She  yearned  to  set  the  captives  free.  Hush  ! 
there  was  a  footstep.  It  was  her  husband's.  "He 
will  help  me  to  save  the  little  thin,  wan  boy  from 
sufferings.  He  will  prevent  the  cruelty,  for  my 
sake.  He  loves  me  so  much." 

There  was  a  great  sorrow  before  her.  The  clouds 
were  drawing  nearer  to  the  bright  star,  but  she  did 
not  see  them. 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST.  95 


CHAPTER  IX. 

UNPROFESSIONAL. 

THE  charmed  spell,  the  sunlight,  and  the  glory 
were  passing  away. 

Sorrow  and  anxious  care  were  very  near. 

Life's  warfare  was  beginning.  The  gloom  was 
about  to  rest  on  the  flower,  blighting  it  for  ever. 

Leila  saw  a  terrible  change  come  over  her  hus- 
band's face  when  she  told  him  of  all  she  had  seen 
and  the  information  she  had  given  the  police  respect- 
ing Horrox. 

She  had  expected  he  would  give  her  sympathy, 
and  offer  prompt  assistance,  instead  of  which  he 
turned  upon  her  angrily. 

"You  have  done  this  thing,  Leila,  without  even 
asking  me  first  Do  you  forget  I  am  your  husband  ? " 

He  moved  impatiently  as  he  spoke.  His  face  grew 
very  white  and  stern. 

"  If  you  are  my  husband,  surely  you  cannot  blame 
me  for  putting  an  end  to  such  cruelty.  It  shall  not 
continue  in  any  house  where  I  am  living,"  replied 
Leila,  with  determination. 

"And  your  interference  will  not  be  permitted," 
said  Castelli  coldly. 

"Perhaps  not  mine,  but  there  are  the  police  to 
interfere,  and  I'll  take  care  they  shall.  Poor  little 
boy  ! "  she  said  with  deep  sympathy. 

"  You  will  take  the  thing  in  hand,  will  you?"  re- 
plied Castelli,  with  suppressed  passion.  "I'll  take 
care  you  shall  not." 

Leila  looked  at  her  husband  in  astonishment.  He 
had  never,  till  now,  spoken  an  unkind  word  to  her. 


96  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

He  had  been  so  gentle,  so  kind,  so  glad  to  listen  to 
her  various  schemes  and  ideas.  Suddenly  he  seemed 
transformed,  his  eyes  had  lost  their  kindliness,  and 
he  flashed  a  very  angry  look  at  her  when  he 
spoke. 

"  Emilio,  do  you  mean  it?  Do  you  really  mean 
what  you  are  saying?  " 

"  All,  and  a  great  deal  more.  Sit  down,"  he  added 
sharply.  "I  have  something  to  say  to  you." 

Leila  had  been  standing  by  the  table,  and  his 
command  aggravated  her  intensely. 

"  I  prefer  to  stand,"  she  replied  curtly. 

"And  I  prefer  that  you  should  sit  down.  Leila,  do 
as  I  tell  you." 

Once  again  the  old  authoritative  tone  made  her 
feel  his  power,  and  she  moved  towards  the  chair. 
He  was  silent  until  she  had  obeyed  him,  and  then 
he  continued, — 

"  You  are  my  wife,  and  you  must  make  up  your 
mind  to  act  as  I  wish.  You  have  done  a  most  foolish 
thing.  I  never  heard  of  such  a  case  excepting  once, 
when  two  circus  men  appealed  to  the  British  Consul 
in  Spain,  saying  that  some  English  child  was  ill- 
treated  by  his  master,*  and  a  pretty  upset  there  was 
over  the  brat.  It  is  not  usual  for  one  person  to  split 
of  another  in  our  profession  ;  we  leave  that  job  to 
those  who  are  meddlesome  and  ignorant." 

She  flushed  scarlet,  annoyed  at  his  words,  which 
seemed  to  imply  that  he  thought  her  guilty  and 
ignorant. 

"  It's  ignorant  people  who  dare  not  speak  ;  it's  not 
meddling  to  protect  tiny  children  from  brutal  men 
— you  know  it  is  not,"  she  added  with  passion. 

"  I  know  it's  \\oijyour  place  to  interfere.  There'll 
be  a  fine  row  to-morrow  when  Horrox  finds  out 
what  you  have  done." 

*This  is  founded  on  the  case  of  William  Gregory,  sent  home 
from  a  circus  by  the  British  Consul  at  Barcelona,  in  the  Alberio, 
1880. 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 


97 


"  It  will  serve  him  right.  I  do  not  care  in  the  least," 
she  added  calmly. 

"But  I  do;  it  may  cause  both  Horrox  and  me 
to  lose  our  engagements  here.  Proprietors  do  not 
care  for  a  court  advertisement.  Leila,  you  have 
behaved  like  a  fool." 

"The  man  Horrox  is  the  fool,  I  think,"  replied 
Leila  angrily,  "and  don't  apply  that  epithet  to  me. 
It's  not  kind  or  polite,  and  I  should  be  glad  if  you 
will  tell  me  if  the  proprietors  of  circuses  are  unaware 
of  these  horrible  cruelties.  I  gather  that  is  so,  or 
why  should  you  be  afraid  of  the  result  of  my 
action  ?  " 

Leila,  by  being  constantly  with  her  husband,  had 
developed  a  very  determined  spirit.  Naturally  there 
was  much  of  her  mother's  indomitable  perseverance 
and  courage,  even  if  the  cause  was  on  the  wrong 
lines,  and  her  marriage  with  Castelli  had  fostered  it 
largely,  and  added  to  her  more  experienced  life.  She 
was  quite  capable  of  standing  her  ground  firmly  on 
behalf  of  the  little  tortured  child. 

"  Of  course  the  proprietors  don't  know  how  the 
training  is  done,"  replied  Castelli  hastily.  "They 
advertise  for  a  'show,'  performing  horses,  acrobats, 
gymnasts.  Do  you  think  they  are  going  to  question 
how  and  by  what  methods  they  are  trained  ?  The 
'show 'is  perfect.  It  will  'draw  '  into  the  treasury 
plenty  of  gold.  What  else  do  they  care  for?  It's 
not  their  place  to  ask  questions.  Perhaps,  some  of 
the  circus  proprietors  would  make  the  devil  of  a 
fuss  if  they  knew  how  the  training  is  done,  but  you 
see  they  do  not." 

"Then  there  t's  cruelty  in  the  training,  and  you 
knew  it  nil  the  time,"  said  Leila  in  a  grieved  tone. 

Castelli  smiled,  not  one  of  those  gracious  smiles 
which  had  fascinated  her  in  the  early  days  of  their 
courtship. 

"  Of  course  I  have  known  it  all  along,  but  it  was  no 
use  to  worry  you  with  a  lot  of  details." 

7 


98  SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST. 

"  Then  you  have  grossly  deceived  me,"  said  Leila. 
"  You  have  lied  to  me.  put  me  off  with  any  story,  but 
I  have  found  you  out  at  last." 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  Leila.  You  are  forgetting 
yourself." 

"  I  will  not" 

"  Listen  to  me  or  leave  the  room,"  said  Castelli, 
now  fast  losing  his  temper.  "I'm  not  afraid  to  own 
my  opinions  before  my  wife,  and  now  I  will  tell  you 
straight  off  that  force  and  cruelty  are  and  must  be 
employed  to  teach  children  their  difficult  and  dan- 
gerous feats.  If  the  brats  won't  work,  and  turn 
obstinate,  there's  nothing  for  it  but  the  whip,  and  I 
approve  of  the  method  if  success  is  to  be  won.  How 
else  is  such  perfection  to  be  obtained?" 

"You  approve  of  it,"  gasped  Leila,  "you  who 
pretended  cruelty  did  not  pay  !  I  know  now  why 
you  kept  me  so  carefully  from  going  to  the  circus. 
You  were  afraid  I  should  hate  you  if  I  knew  the  truth. 
How  could  you  deceive  me." 

Her  voice  was  soft  and  pathetic,  and  its  tone  struck 
Castelli  painfully.  Yet  he  was  determined  to  put  a 
stop  to  Leila  taking  proceedings  against  members 
of  his  profession.  She  must  see  that  he  was  quite 
determined  or  mischief  would  come  of  it. 

"Yes,  I  approve  of  discipline  and  severe  measures 
when  necessary,  and  in  our  line  it  is  necessary." 

"Then  I  am  sorry  lever  cameamongst  you, "said 
Leila  sadly.  All  her  anger  was  gone.  She  was  so 
bitterly  disappointed  that  her  heart  sank  within  her, 
and  she  murmured  faintly  :  "All  Horrox  said  was 
true  then — all — all " 

"  Go  to  bed,  Leila,  it  is  nearly  one  o'clock.  For 
heaven's  sake  don't  do  the  tragedy  business.  It  does 
not  suit  you." 

She  never  moved  from  her  chair.  His  cruelty  of 
words  had  shattered  her  nerves,  overstrained  her 
excitable  and  loving  disposition. 

"  Do  you  hear  me?     Go  to  your  room.     We've 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 


99 


said  all  there  is  to  say  at  present.  Drop  the  subject 
until  I  choose  to  speak  to  you  again.'' 

She  rose  mechanically  to  do  his  bidding-.  As  she 
passed  him  she  hesitated  one  moment,  and  then,  as 
if  breathing  out  the  most  tender  love,  she  said, — 

"  Emilio,  will  you  kiss  me?"  She  laid  her  little 
hand  on  his  coat  sleeve,  as  if  to  draw  him  nearer  to 
her. 

He  stood  looking  at  her,  stern,  austere,  and  un- 
bending— a  giant  in  his  strength  compared  to  the 
fragile  figure  before  him. 

"No,  Leila,  not  to-night.  I  am  very  vexed  with 
you — very." 

She  turned  away,  choking  down  a  sob  as  she  did 
so.  The  anguish  of  that  moment  was  supreme. 

She  went  to  her  room,  exhausted,  weary,  bereaved 
of  her  husband's  love  and  kindness.  Dispirited,  and 
a  little  frightened  at  what  she  had  done,  she  opened 
the  window,  as  if  hoping  to  gain  some  comfort  from 
the  clear,  still  air.  She  saw  the  moon  was  flooding 
the  dark,  grim-looking  houses  with  a  pale  glimmer, 
making  the  great  town  look  almost  ghastly  ;  and  the 
bright  cold  stars  made  the  scene  very  impressive, 
strange,  and  solemn. 

But  she  was  too  crushed  to  notice  the  beauty  of  the 
early  hours,  the  best  and  brightest  before  the  dawn. 
She  could  only  remember  that  the  mask  had  fallen, 
and  that  the  plain  unvarnished  truth  was  before  her, 
to  be  borne  as  best  she  could.  She  had  awakened  to 
stern  reality,  and  the  waking  robbed  her  of  her  joy- 
ous daydreams.  Her  happiness  was  like  a  delicate 
rosebud,  born,  but  destroyed  before  the  time  to  flower, 
or  like  the  frail,  tenderblossom  that  would  never  turn 
to  fruit. 

She  had  trusted  him  implicitly.  A  doubt  had  never 
crossed  her  mind  that  he  told  her  aught  but  truth, 
and  now  her  faith  was  bruised  and  she  could  not  heal 
it. 

But  she  loved  him  still. 


100  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

When  the  morning  came,  Castelli  went  down  to 
the  circus  early.  He  had  been  coldly  polite  to  Leila, 
indeed  almost  kind,  but  he  had  not  kissed  her  or 
treated  her  in  any  way  as  usual. 

All  because  she  tried  to  wipe  away  childish  tears, 
and  to  soothe  a  little  broken  heart. 

"I  say,  Castelli,  your  fine  lady  wife  has  made  a 
nice  muddle  down  here.  Horrox  tells  me  that  she 
had  a  summons  served  upon  him  this  morning  for 
beating  one  of  the  troupe.  Is  that  so  ?  "  asked  the 
manager. 

"  Yes,"  said  Castelli,  "  it's  quite  true,  I  am  ashamed 
to  say." 

"Well  he's  going  off  to  the  Continent  this  after- 
noon, so  he  declares,  the  whole  'family'  too,  but 
I  think  he  should  remain  at  his  post ;  it  will  make  us 
short  for  the  performance." 

"Oh,  he'll  be  here  right  enough,"  said  Castelli. 
He  was  anxious  that  the  manager  should  be  appeased 
or  awkward  questions  might  be  asked,  although  he 
knew  that  even  then  Horrox  was  on  his  way  to  Paris. 

"I  hope  so;  he  has  another  month  to  run  here. 
But  did  he  really  beat  one  of  his  apprentices  ?  " 

"According  to  a  woman's  point  of  view,  yes  ;  from 
ours,  most  decidedly  not.  My  wife  is  a  lady,  refined, 
educated — well,  a  thorough  lady,  with  a  tender  heart 
— and  knows  no  more  of  circus  life  than  the  unborn 
babe.  I  suppose  the  child  cried  out  before  he  was 
hurt,  and  my  wife  went  up  to  the  top  room  where  the 
Guarez  Family  practised,  and  she  saw  Horrox  strike 
the  child  with  a  cane — no  more  than  a  schoolmaster 
might  do." 

"Oh,  she's  one  of  the  modern  women  faddists,  is 
she?  "said  the  manager;  "one  of  these  intolerant, 
interfering  persons  who  belong  to  half  a  dozen  ranting 
societies.  Take  my  advice,  Castelli,  and  put  her  to 
some  work — a  lady  wife  is  no  use  to  any  man  in  our 
profession.  I  suppose  you  leave  her  to  spend  the 
day  as  best  she  can ;  no  wonder  she  gets  into  mis- 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  ioi 

chief.  You  must  employ  her  mind  ;  but  for  heaven's 
sake  keep  her  from  making  fools  of  us  all  in  this 
style." 

"It  will  be  the  last  time  she  will  ever  do  it  I  can 
promise  you,"  said  Castelli,  who  began  to  feel  very 
uncomfortable  and  angry. 

"  Don't  keep  her  at  home  doing  nothing  ;  that's  the 
mischief,"  repeated  the  manager,  as  he  walked  off 
without  waiting  for  Castelli  to  reply. 

Castelli  was  enraged  to  think  that  his  wife  had  put 
him  into  such  a  degrading  position  in  the  circus.  To 
have  her  talked  over,  and  his  management  of  her, 
drove  him  to  think  some  hard  things  of  the  girl  to 
whom  a  few  short  months  before  he  had  pledged  such 
loving  vows. 

He  turned  to  go  towards  the  stables,  when  Hans, 
the  vaulter  and  clown,  came  up  to  him. 

"Is  it  true,  Castelli,  that  your  wife  has  run  a  sum- 
mons on  Horrox?  My,  she  must  be  a  good  'un,  and 
no  mistake  !  I'm  glad  she  don't  belong  to  me  if  she 
has." 

"It  is  not  for  you  to  question  what  my  wife  has 
done,"  said  Castelli  loftily. 

"Well,  I  suppose  it  is  not,  now  I  come  to  think  of 
it,"  replied  the  man,  who  kept  the  fun  going  in  the 
ring  for  the  children,  and  grown  up  folks  too. 

"  Pity  you  did  not  thiitk  before  you  spoke,"  said 
Castelli. 

"  So  I  did.  I  thought  what  a  fool  she  must  be  to 
do  it,  and  what  a  fool  you  are  to  let  her.  So  I 
thinked  a  think,  didn't  I  ? "  he  added,  putting  on  a 
tone  of  voice  he  used  in  the  ring  and  winking  his 
eye  at  a  groom  standing  near. 

"  No  one  wants  to  hear  your  jokes,"  said  Castelli, 
now  furious.  "  Keep  them  to  yourself." 

"  Couldn't,  couldn't  oblige  you  anyhow.  You  see 
I  am  a  'quibber'  by  profession — bred  in  it,  born  in 
it,  paid  for  it,  and  shall  die  in  it,"  and  a  good- 
natured  smile  overspread  the  man's  face,  "  I  really 


102  SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST. 

only  asked  you  the  question  for  fun,  because,  when 
I  heard  of  the  summons,  I  was  thinking  what  a 
stunning  joke  it  would  be  if  she  tried  the  same  game 
with  you  and  your  'gee-gees,'"  and  his  face 
brightened  at  the  mere  idea  of  such  an  event. 

"  It  will  be  time  to  think  of  that  when  it  occurs," 
said  Castelli  sullenly. 

"  I  should  ihink  it  would  indeed,"  replied  the 
clowp.  with  emphasis.  "  But  forewarned  is  fore- 
armed, and  I'm  blowed  if  I'd  trust  her  not  to  get  you 
into  some  scrape." 

He  hummed  a  popular  air  as  he  turned  away,  and 
Castelli  went  to  the  stables. 

Whanks  was  there,  busy  with  the  horses.  He 
came  UD  to  his  master. 

"  Excuse  me,  sir,  but  be  it  true  that  Madam  has 
summoned  Horrox  for  cruelty  to  the  children  ?  You 
see,  sir,  I  serves  you,  and  all  the  circus  keeps  asking 
me  if  it  is  true,  and  I  don't  like  to  be  kept  in  the 
dark.  It  looks  darned  queer,  in  my  position." 

"Yes,"  replied  Castelli,  "it  is  correct.  As  all 
these  confounded  busybodies  seem  to  have  heard  it, 
you  may  as  well  know  the  truth.  Don't  ask  me  any 
more  questions.  You've  got  your  answer,  once  and 
for  all." 

' '  God  bless  Miss  Leila  !  " 

"  She  is  my  wife,  Whanks,  not  Miss  Leila  at  all," 
broke  in  Castelli  quickly. 

"  Beg  pardon,  sir.  Well,  heaven  bless  her,  her 
heart's  in  the  right  place  !  I  wish  there  was  more 
like  her,  that  I  do — a  dear  good  creature  !  I  only 
wish  my  aunt's  money  would  come  and  I'd  help 
Miss  Leila — bless  my  soul,  I  should  have  said 
Madam — to  protect  the  children,  that  I  would." 

"  Be  off  to  your  work,"  was  Castelli's  reply. 

The  man  touched  his  dirty  greasy  cap  as  a  token 
of  respect,  and  shuffled  off  to  the  horses,  and  then 
Castelli  wended  his  way  home  to  his  disconsolate 
wife. 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  103 

He  had  determined  upon  the  punishment  he  should 
inflict  on  Leila  for  her  indiscretion.  He  would  take 
her  away  from  her  quiet  home  life,  from  her  books 
and  dogs,  and  make  her  work  as  other  women 
work. 

But  he  did  not  count  the  cost  of  that  labour  for 
Leila.  He  forgot  she  was  like  a  piece  of  delicate 
china  which  needed  very  careful  handling. 

Others  went  through  the  toil,  and  she  should  do 
the  same.  She  would  have  no  time  then  to  find  fault 
with  the  training  of  children. 

But  he  was  too  wise  to  keep  up  the  feud  which 
had  arisen  between  his  wife  and  himself.  She  must 
look  her  best,  and  do  him  credit,  and  for  this  end  he 
would  meet  her  kindly. 

She  was  sitting  in  a  low  chair  as  he  entered,  and 
he  was  really  sorry  to  see  her  looking  so  wan  and 
ill.  She  flushed  slightly  as  he  called  her  name. 

"  Leila,  have  you  a  kiss  for  me?"  he  asked  her 
gently,  as  he  put  his  face  close  to  hers. 

She  did  not  reply,  but  burst  into  a  flood  of  pas- 
sionate tears.  The  reaction  was  almost  too  much 
for  her  to  bear. 

"  Don't  cry,  Leila,  my  girl.  The  best  of  friends 
fall  out  sometimes.  I  daresay  I  was  a  little  too 
rough  with  you,  but  I  was  dreadfully  put  out  about 
that  confounded  summons.  You  see,  Horrox  has 
gone  off  to  avoid  the  hearing,  and  down  at  our 
'  show  '  they  are  not  too  well  pleased." 

"  He  has  gone,  and  the  children  too  ?  "  asked  Leila 
between  her  sobs. 

"Yes,  gone  off  to  the  Continent,"  said  Castelli. 

"  Poor  little  Willie,  and  I  promised  to  help  him, 
and  now  he  has  gone." 

This  thought  brought  the  tears  again  in  abundance. 

"  Don't  fret  like  this,  Leila,  for  heaven's  sake.  Be 
a  brave  girl.  You  will  be  quite  ill,"  said  Castelli 
kindly.  "  Besides,  I  have  something  cheerful  to  tell 
you.  What  do  you  think  it  is  ?  " 


I04  SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST. 

She  shook  her  head  sadly,  as  if  nothing  could 
bring  back  either  her  happiness  or  her  smiles. 

"  Well,  I  have  been  thinking  you  must  be  very 
dull  here  alone  all  day.  I  ought  to  have  thought  of 
that  before.  What  do  you  think  of  coming  down  to 
the  circus  and  learning  professional  riding  the  haute 
ecole,  of  course,  I  mean  ?  You  ride  so  well  now  that 
you  would  soon  become  an  expert,  and  come 
mounted  into  the  ring  with  me.  It  would  be  nice 
to  ride  together,  Leila,  and  make  a  really  pretty 
'  show.'  Will  you  try  ?  " 

She  brightened  at  the  idea.  A  little  of  the  sun- 
shine came  back  to  the  sad  girlish  face  at  the  thought 
of  the  lonely  days  now  at  an  end,  to  be  replaced  by 
happy  hours  spent  with  her  husband. 

"  I  should  like  it  very  much,  very  much  indeed. 
It  has  been  lonely  here  sometimes.  The  days  seem 
as  if  they  would  never  pass.  The  change  will  be 
delightful." 

She  almost  looked  herself  again,  and  he  was  truly 
glad  to  see  the  gloom  dispersing  and  the  old  happy 
joyousness  take  its  place. 

"  Well,  by  next  week  I  daresay  we  can  get  your 
habit  and  skirt  made,  and  then  I'll  mount  you  on 
'Mayflower.'  She's  a  splendid  mare,  and  carries  a 
lady  to  perfection.  She  has  no  vice — a  baby  could 
ride  her — one  of  the  finest  in  my  stud,"  said  Castelli 
proudly. 

"  How  kind  you  are,  to  think  of  me  when  you  are 
so  busy,"  said  Leila  gratefully. 

"  Well,  my  precious  little  wifie  must  not  sit  here 
and  mope  any  longer.  Come,  will  you  kiss  me?" 

She  put  her  arms  lovingly  round  his  neck,  and  he 
stooped  and  kissed  her  many  times. 

"  Now  we  are  goods  friends  again,  eh?" 

"  Yes,  oh,  yes,"  she  answered  gladly,  looking  up 
at  him  with  such 'a  glad  smile. 

She  -was  happy  once  more,  yet  her  love  had 
received  a  rude  shock,  and  she  could  not  forget  all 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  105 

he  had  told  her,  and  the  deception  practised  upon 
her.  She  forgave  him,  but  still  the  white  page  of 
her  married  life  had  a  blot  marring  its  fairness. 

She  could  never  feel  quite  the  same,  her  heart  had 
been  so  deeply  wrung,  and  there  was  one  slight 
wound  which  would  never  heal — the  canker  of  a  first 
quarrel,  the  remembrance  of  the  first  harsh  words, 
the  first  wane  in  the  brightness  of  their  gladdened 
life. 

"It  shall  be  the  last  unhappiness,"  Leila  said  to 
herself,  as  she  lay  down  to  rest  that  night,  "  the  very 
last." 

But  the  future  was  veiled. 


I06  SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST. 

CHAPTER  X. 

JOINING   THE    PROFESSION. 

A  KNOT  of  grooms  and  loungers  were  standing  near 
the  ring,  gazing  with  admiring  eyes  at  the  dexterity 
of  Castelli's  young  wife. 

The  trained  horse  knew  its  work  better  than  its 
rider,  but  she  was  quick  to  take  the  cues,  and  they 
both  seemed  to  yield  as  if  to  assist  to  each  other  in 
meritorious  style. 

Leila  possessed  a  natural  talent  for  riding.  She 
had  no  fear.  During  her  childhood  she  had  been 
several  times  chidden  by  her  riding-master  for  sheer 
recklessness.  Most  days  since  her  marriage  she  had 
mounted  a  horse  placed  at  her  disposal  by  her  hus- 
band, and  had  gone  miles  into  the  country  with  faith- 
ful old  Whanks  as  guide  and  protector ;  but  riding 
quietly  just  where  she  pleased  was  very  different  to 
displaying  the  talents  of  a  celebrated  "trick  horse." 
But  she  was  an  apt  pupil,  and  soon  won  the  admira- 
tion of  the  artistes  engaged  in  the  circus. 

On  this  particular  morning  the  rehearsal  had-been 
a  great  success,  and  Castelli  felt  very  proud  of  Leila's 
equestrian  feats.  Even  the  grooms  and  attendants 
were  excited  to  plaudits.  She  held  her  seat  firmly 
whilst  the  horse  knelt  down,  and  performed  other 
difficult  tricks. 

Castelli  saw  money  in  his  beautiful  wife,  and  he 
determined  to  lose  no  time  in  bringing  her  before  the 
public. 

"You  must  try  her  again  in  the  waltz,  Leila,"  said 
Castelli,  "  but  you  had  better  rest  her  for  a  moment 
or  two." 

Lelia  did  as  her  husband  directed,  but  the  beauti- 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  107 

ful,  impatient  creature  was  difficult  to  hold  in.  Cas- 
telli saw  her  trouble,  and  went  up  to  the  horse,  put- 
ting up  his  finger  before  it.  In  a  moment  it  ceased 
its  restless  pawing  of  the  sawdust  and  became  sub- 
dued. Leila  was  astonished  at  the  docility  of  the 
animal.  She  did  not  realise  that  his  training  had 
been  forced  by  the  whip  for  resistance  and  a  carrot 
for  obedience. 

Whilst  she  was  resting  she  caught  sight  of  a  woman 
amongst  a  group  of  men  who  had  just  strolled  into 
the  circus.  She  had  seen  the  face  before,  but  not 
since  the  dear  courting  days  at  Sandcliffe.  It  was 
Cleo.  There  was  no  mistaking  the  handsome 
southern  face  which  looked  at  her  with  such  scorn 
and  pride. 

To  Leila  it  seemed  as  if  she  said,  "Oh.  you're 
come  to  this,  are  you  f "  and  she  felt  almost  ashamed 
that  she  should  be  seen  there  in  the  ring  as  one  of 
them,  for  had  not  Castelli  boasted  everywhere  that 
she  was  a  lady,  and  not  to  be  connected  with  the 
circus  at  all.  Of  course  he  had  led  everyone  to  be- 
lieve that  the  choice  had  been  his  w.ife's,  and  that 
he  had  consented  to  please  her,  and  to  this  arrange- 
ment Leila  gave  a  tacit  consent. 

In  a  moment  she  realised  that  this  woman  had 
been  meeting  her  husband  since  their  marriage,  and 
had  now  probably  taken  an  engagement  at  the  same 
circus.  The  very  idea  of  this  brought  the  blood  to 
her  face  in  an  angry  flush.  All  her  interest  in  her 
work  was  gone  for  that  day,  and  she  signalled  to  her 
husband,  who  was  chatting  with  another  trainer  in 
the  middle  of  the  ring,  to  come  to  her. 

"  I  should  like  to  dismount ;  I  don't  think  I  shall 
ride  any  more  to-day." 

"Are  you  ill,  Leila,  that  you  make  such  a  strange 
request?  You  must  remember  it  is  business  here, 
not  a  place  for  me  to  indulge  you  in  absurd  fancies," 
said  Castelli  sternly. 

"I'm  not  ill,  but  I  will  wo/ride  with  that  dreadful 


108  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

woman  Cleo  standing  there  ;  I  will  not  be  in  the 
same  place  with  her.  I  am  going  home,"  replied 
Leila,  with  great  determination. 

"  You  are  wo/,"  said  Castelli  quietly.  "The  woman 
has  as  much  right  here  as  you  have.  She  begins  an 
engagement  here  this  week,  so  you  must  meet  some- 
times. Don't  be  foolish,  Leila,  or  you  will  make  me 
angry." 

"I  shall  call  one  of  the  grooms,  for  I  mean  to 
go,"  said  Leila,  "I'm  not  bound  to  work  here." 

"What  you  have  undertaken  /will  see  you  carry 
out,  and  as  ringmaster  I  command  you  remain  here 
until  I  consider  your  rehearsal  at  an  end." 

His  face  grew  very  stern  and  hard.  The  group  of 
which  Cleo  was  one  wondered  at  the  change,  and 
surmised  that  the  conversation  between  the  couple 
had  not  a  very  pleasant  purport 

Castelli  saw  tliat  wondering  eyes  were  upon  them, 
and  to  avoid  further  observation  he  ordered  in  a  loud 
voice  the  grooms  to  bring  in  the  five-barred  gate  for 
Leila  to  take  her  leap.  He  approached  the  horse, 
and  examined  bit  and  bridle  carefully. 

"If  you  expect  me  to  take  the  gate  safely  to-day 
let  me  tell  you  I  have  not  the  courage  to  do  so,"  said 
Leila,  trembling  with  passion. 

She  had  only  gone  over  the  gate  a  few  times,  and 
Castelli  always  took  every  precaution  to  ensure  her 
safety.  He  was  anxious  now  to  steady  her  before 
the  leap. 

"Leila,  do  be  brave,"  he  added  kindly.  "Let 
them  all  see  what  you  can  do.  Would  you  fail  be- 
cause an  enemy  is  here?  Rather  show  her  how 
clever  you  are,  and  how  proud  I  am  of  you. " 

His  words  were  sufficient  to  give  her  back  all  her 
courage,  all  her  determination.  He  could  not  have 
fired  her  ambition  better  than  by  uttering  those  few 
sentences. 

The  men  placed  the  gate  in  position,  and  Castelli 
called  to  Leila, — 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST. 


109 


"Are  you  ready  ?  Sit  back,  quite  back,  and  you'll 
be  safe.  She'll  take  you  over  in  g-ood  style." 

And  she  did.  Without  the  shadow  of  a  mistake 
she  cleared  the  gate,  and  landed  with  ease  on  the 
other  side. 

"  Take  care  of  the  door  frame,  Madam,"  said  one 
of  the  grooms.  "  You're  apt  to  catch  your  'ead  if  he 
makes  for  the  stables  sudden  like." 

"  Thank  you,  that  would  be  a  terrible  death,"  said 
Leila,  grateful  for  the  man's  warning. 

Her  husband  came  up  to  her  and  rewarded  her 
with  a  smile,  and  Leila  was  gratified  with  her  suc- 
cess. 

But  there  was  one  there  who  could  have  cursed  the 
groom  for  his  timely  warning,  one  whose  cruel  wrath 
against  an  innocent  woman  knew  no  softening  :  in 
her  breast  was  buried  undying  hate  She  would  have 
slain  the  fair  rider  had  she  dared.  Passion,  jealousy, 
and  unconquered  love  ruled  her  still. 

Leila  was  happy  in  her  work,  and  as  yet  she  had 
witnessed  no  cruelty  in  the  ring-  during  the  short 
time  she  was  at  the  circus. 

One  morning  she  strolled  down  earlier  than  usual. 
She  passed  the  horses  in  their  stalls,  and  spoke  a 
kindly  word  to  the  three  boarhounds,  which  were 
playing  in  an  unused  stall,  and  then  she  made  her 
way  into  the  circus.  She  began  to  feel  at  home 
now  in  the  great,  bare,  cold  building,  and  her  hus- 
band allowed  her  to  go  in  and  out  pretty  much  as 
she  liked,  as  long  as  he  was  about ;  but  business 
had  taken  him  from  the  circus  this  one  day,  and 
Signor  Pandini  was  delegated  to  act  as  riding-master 
for  the  occasion. 

Suddenly  a  dull,  continuous  sound  of  horses' 
hoofs  reached  Leila's  ear,  and  at  intervals  the  crack 
of  a  whip — someone  was  rehearsing — she  would  go 
and  see  who  it  was,  for  she  was  young  enough  in 
her  profession  not  to  have  lost  any  of  the  charm  of 
the  life,  and  her  curiosity  was  as  keen  as  ever.  An 


1 10  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

infamous  oath  followed  by  the  crack  of  a  whip  and 
a  shrill  cry  of  physical  pain,  smote  her  with  appre- 
hension. She  hastily  put  aside  the  heavy  curtains 
which  hung  over  the  great  doors,  and  the  horrors  of 
the  ring  burst  upon  her. 

The  daylight  was  streaming  in  through  the  high 
windows,  making  the  circus  look  cold  and  cheerless 
with  its  hundreds  of  vacant  seats  ;  there  was  no  one 
to  be  seen  excepting  an  angry  man  in  the  ring,  and 
a  mere  girl,  dressed  in  a  wide  grey  skirt  and  knick- 
erbockers, loose  at  the  knees.  She  had  made  several 
"  slips,"  and  had  just  received  a  severe  cut  or  two 
from  her  master.  She  was  very  pale,  and  her  face 
was  stamped  with  an  expression  of  the  greatest  fear 
and  suffering.  Leila  stepped  back  into  the  shade  of 
the  curtains — she  would  not  retreat  farther,  and  she 
dare  not  let  her  presence  be  found  out 

Again  and  again  the  hoop  was  held  by  the  trainer, 
but  from  want  of  courage  the  girl  failed  to  spring  at 
the  last  moment. 

Leila  saw  her  taken  from  the  horse,  and  such 
punishment  bestowed  on  her  with  a  thin  white- 
thonged  whip,  that  she  withdrew  with  a  shudder. 

Her  cries  for  mercy,  and  the  degradation  of  the 
girl's  position,  made  Leila  grow  very  faint.  She  was 
rooted  to  the  spot  by  the  terrible  spectacle,  but  she 
dare  not  move.  There  had  been  a  time  when  she 
would  have  called  for  assistance,  and  led  the  way 
herself,  but  somehow  she  had  grown  strangely  afraid 
of  Castelli ;  and  she  did  not  wish  to  incur  his  anger 
if  it  were  possible  to  avoid  it. 

When  the  man  had  expended  his  wrath,  he  kicked 
her  several  times,  and  then  her  awful  lesson  came 
to  an  end. 

Leila  escaped  from  her  hiding-place,  and  betook 
herself  to  the  office  used  by  her  husband  and  Signer 
Pandini.  She  felt  ill  and  sick  at  heart.  And  had 
it  not  been  for  incurring  Castelli's  displeasure  she 
would  have  begged  Pandini  to  dispense  with  her 
lesson. 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST.  \\\ 

He  was  waiting,  however,  and  he  remarked,  as  she 
entered, — 

"  I  wonder  if  Dutasti  is  out  of  the  ring  yet?  He 
keeps  his  pupil  such  a  darned  long  time." 

"  I  think  the  lesson  is  over/'  said  Leila  faintly, 
"  for  I  met  him  a  moment  ago." 

"  Then  we'll  proceed  to  business  at  once, ".said 
Pandini,  and  together  they  went  into  the  ring.  The 
horse  was  brought  out  and  Leila  went  through  her 
duties  mechanically,  as  if  her  thoughts  were  far 
away  from  the  circus.  Once  or  twice  Pandini 
noticed  her  inattention,  and  fearing  she  might  lose 
control  over  her  horse,  he  called  her  to  mind  rather 
sharply.  "  I  think  you  might  do  your  best,  Madam, 
even  if  your  husband  is  away  ;  it's  rather  ungracious 
to  ride  your  worst,"  he  said  in  a  vexed  tone. 

Leila  felt  the  man  spoke  the  truth,  and  she  threw 
off  her  distress  for  the  time,  and  gave  all  her  energy 
to  her  work. 

"  That's  good,  Madam,  very  good,"  said  Pandini 
from  time  to  time.  And  when  her  lesson  was  over 
she  \vas  still  more  gratified  to  hear  his  warm  approval 
of  her  efforts. 

Then  she  went  in  search  of  the  wretched  ill-treated 
girl,  whose  name  she  heard  was  Louie  Paran.  But 
a  week  passed  before  she  was  able  to  have  any  con- 
versation with  her.  After  that  she  had  one  or  two 
secret  meetings  with  her. 

Leila  was  horrified  to  hear  of  her  constant 
sufferings. 

"  I  am  kept  practising  morning,  noon,  and  night, 
for  if  it  is  not  horses  it's  bending,  which  is  contor- 
tion, you  know.  There  is  no  rest  for  me,"  said  the 
girl  sadly,  "  and  I  am  covered  with  bruises  ;  some- 
times I  ache  in  all  my  limbs  so  that  I  cannot  sleep  at 
night.  My  life  is  a  misery  to  me." 

"  Well,  it  cannot  last  for  ever,"  said  Leila  with 
great  compassion  ;  '"the  day  shall  come  when  you 
will  be  free,  as  others  are." 


j  1 2  SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST. 

The  girl  sighed,  the  hope  of  that  seemed  so  far 
away. 

"lam  only  sixteen,"  she  replied;  "I  have  five 
years  yet  to  serve  my  master." 

"  Is  there  no  appeal  against  such  cruel  treatment  ?" 
asked  Leila;  "  have  you  ever  made  an  attempt  to 
get  protected  ? " 

"Never.  One  of  our  girls  managed  somehow  or 
other  to  summons  her  master,  but  the  magistrate 
dismissed  it,  and  she  got  the  worst  of  it.  The 
summonses  are  always  set  on  one  side,  the  girl  gets 
no  chance  against  her  master.  There  are  lots  of 
dodges,  heaps  of  means  to  get  out  of  the  scrape. 
The  girl  is  told  she  must  tell  the  magistrate  she  is 
very  happy,  and  the  parents  are  paid  to  declare  how 
much  better  in  health  the  girl  is  since  she  was 
apprenticed,  and  in  due  course  the  master  has  the 
pull.  I  wouldn't  try,"  she  added  ;  "  I'd  rather  suffer 
to  my  death  than  take  the  risk  of  losing  the  day. 
Ah  !  you  don't  know  what  the  existence  is.  Some- 
times I  think  I  shall  put  an  end  to  my  life  ;  death 
cannot  be  worse  to  bear — it  can  only  come  once, 
and  then  the  pain  is  over." 

"  Be  brave,  dear  girl  ;  I  will  see  what  I  can  do. 
Don't  do  anything  rash,  promise  me  you  will  not," 
said  Leila  in  distress. 

"  I  shall  not  have  the  chance,  I  am  afraid,"  replied 
the  girl  wearily.  "  I  only  wish  I  could  see  a  lady 
who  was  the  wife  of  the  proprietor  of  a  big  Conti- 
nental circus.  She  was  English  herself.  She  was 
very  kind  to  me,  and  saved  me  a  terrible  beating 
one  day  when  I  was  giddy  and  kept  falling.  You 
see,  my  master  did  not  mind  her,  knowing  she  be- 
longed to  the  circus  and  up  to  all  the  secrets,  but 
she  begged  him  to  leave  off,  so  he  did,  after  abusing 
her  for  interfering.  I  heard  she  is  coming  here  on 
business,  but  even  if  she  does  I  may  not  get  a  word 
with  her." 

"Yes,  you  shall;  what   is   her   name   Louie?     I 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST.  \  \  3 

will  look  out  for  her  and  mention  you  to  her,"  said 
Leila  in  a  glad  tone  of  voice. 

"  Madame  Meurice,"  replied  the  girl  ;  "  but  I  am 
afraid  the  chances  of  her  coming-  are  very  small," 
she  added  desperately. 

"  Shall  I  write  to  her?  "  asked  Leila. 

"  No,  no,  pray  don't  do  that,  it  might  all  be  found 
out,"  said  the  girl  hastily,  all  the  while  fear  of  her 
master's  anger  rising  before  her. 

"You  can  trust  me,  my  dear,"  said  Leila  gently. 
"  I  shall  never  mention  a  word  of  this  conversation. 
You  must  believe  me,  I  am  so  sorry  for  you,"  and 
she  pressed  a  kiss  on  the  girl's  thin  cheeks. 

The  little  act  of  kindness  touched  Louie  Paran's 
heart,  and  a  few  silent  tears  coursed  down  her  face. 

Poor  child,  she  so  rarely  heard  loving  words,  and 
had  forgotten  who  had  kissed  her  last ;  it  was  so 
many  years  ago,  it  seemed  like  a  dream. 

"  Good-bye,"  said  Leila,  "  I  will  do  the  best  I  can 
to  find  your  friend,  and  one  of  these  days  I  shall 
come  and  chat  with  you  again." 

"  If  you  get  the  chance,"  replied  the  girl  sadly,  as 
she  turned  away,  but  happier  for  the  tenderness 
which  had  gladdened  the  gloom. 

When  Leila  and  her  husband  were  sitting  together 
that  evening  she  never  mentioned  the  incident  of  the 
day.  It  had  become  usual  for  her  now  to  keep  her 
troubles  and  vexations  to  herself. 

Castelli  stood  lighting  his  cigar  at  the  candle,  and 
then,  after  settling  himself  comfortably  in  the  arm- 
chair, said, — 

"That  Canadian  skating  show  has  got  the  sack 
from  the  manager  down  at  our  place.  Rather  hard, 
considering  they've  only  been  married  eight  months." 

Leila's  sympathy  was  aroused  at  once,  and  she 
asked, — 

"Why  have  they  left?" 

"Oh,  because  the  wife  is  ill,"  replied  Castelli 
carelessly,  "and  she  will  not  put  on  a  smile  to  the 

8 


1 1 4  SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  VVDUST. 

public,  and  lets  every  fool  know  she  is  unhappy.  Her 
husband  told  me  that  she  had  been  crying  all  day 
before  she  went  on  the  rink,  and  now  they  have  both 
to  turn  out.  The  managers  do  not  want  people  who 
show  when  they  are  ill — you  can't  expect  it. " 

Castelli  spoke  in  an  off-hand,  curt  manner,  and 
betrayed  no  sympathy  with  the  suffering  woman. 

"  What  a  shame?"  said  Leila;  "she  cannot  help 
being  ill." 

"  No  one  said  she  could,  but  she  can  help  show- 
ing it.  The  people  pay  to  be  amused,  not  to  be 
depressed  and  made  sad,"  replied  her  husband  in  a 
cold  tone. 

"It  seems  to  me,"  said  Leila,  "that  amusement 
must  be  procured  for  those  who  can  pay  for  it  whether 
others  suffer  or  not." 

"Just  so;  as  long  as  the  people  clap  down  their 
money  we  must  provide  them  with  what  they  pay 
for." 

"And  they  require  the  performance  of  feats  at  the 
expense  of  cruelty  and  hardships,"  replied  Leila  with 
disgust. 

"  The  public  don't  care  a  curse  as  long  as  they  get 
their  shilling's  worth,"  said  Castelli  quietly. 

"  I  believe  they  would  if  they  knew  the  truth.  It's 
want  of  knowledge  not  want  of  heart  which  makes 
them  applaud  the  very  things  which  have  cost  the 
artiste  the  greatest  suffering,  the  sharpest  pain.  Dare 
you  or  any  master  of  apprentices  train  in  public  ? 
You  would  not  like  all  the  world  to  know  that  the 
whip  has  so  prominent  a  place  ;  but  some  day  the 
truth  will  out,  and  then  shall  come  the  remedy." 

"Rubbish!"  said  Castelli  angrily.  "What  a  pity 
you  are  not  a  Methodist  preacher.  You'd  better  hold 
your  tongue.  I  daresay  I  shall  live  to  hear  that  you 
have  joined  some  confounded  society  which  gets  big 
subscriptions  from  the  weak-minded  rich  to  enable 
them  to  poke  their  noses  where  they  are  not  wanted." 
.  "I  wish  there  were  more  philanthropists,"  said 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST.  i  T  5 

Leila  gravely,  "  and  more  protection  for  the  chil- 
dren. " 

"  Philanthropists  be  hanged, "  replied  Castelli  with 
rising  passion. 

She  rose  and  left  the  room.  She  was  so  hurt  when 
he  spoke  to  her  thus.  It  was  a  very  common  occur- 
rence now,  yet  she  could  not  accustom  herself  to  it, 
and  the  tears  always  came,  battle  against  them  as  she 
would. 

It  takes  time  for  unkindnessto  pierce  the  anguished 
heart.  The  way  is  through  grief,  sorrow,  and  disap- 
pointment. Kind  words  must  have  died  and  love 
taken  its  flight  before  it  can  reach  the  soul. 

Some  weeks  after  Leila's  chat  with  Louie  Paran  she 
heaFd  that  the  girl  had  run  away,  and  all  efforts  to 
trace  her  had  utterly  failed.  After  her  "turn"  in  the 
ring  at  an  evening  performance  she  was  never  seen 
again. 

Only  Whanks  knew  that  Madame  Meurice  had 
driven  past  the  circus,  muffled  up  most  carefully  so 
that  no  one  could  recognise  her.  He  alone  had  seen 
a  sign  which  had  been  agreed  upon,  and  in  a  mo- 
ment Louie  was  in  the  cab  and  off ;  and  the  next  day, 
when  all  the  circus  was  in  confusion  over  the  loss 
of  Louie  Paran  the  great  "trick  rider,"  Whanks 
could  have  told  them  that  she  was  on  board  a  steamer 
bound  for  the  East. 

But  he  held  his  tongue,  and  only  murmured  to 
himself,  "if  I  had  my  aunt's  money  I  would  have 
gone  too,  be  hanged  if  I  would  not" 

Whanks  had  seen  the  girl  go — for  Leila  had  made 
the  way  easy.  She  did  not  forget  her  promise.  The 
white  slave  had  escaped  the  tyrant's  cruel  hand,  and 
Leila  was  happier  for  the  risk  she  had  run  in  taking 
part  in  the  girl's  abduction. 

But  she  kept  her  own  counsel. 


I  !  6  SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST. 


CHAPTER  XL 

IN  THE   TRANSVAAL. 

BETWEEN  Leila  and  her  brother  there  was — space, 
that  great  undefined  yet  limitable  division  which 
separates  one  half  of  a  wondering  world  from  the 
other. 

There  was  the  sea,  girding  the  earth  like  heaven, 
the  same  for  ever,  stamped  with  the  great  impress  of 
the  Unchangeable. 

There  were  only  memories  left  for  either  of  them. 
Like  a  dream  came  back  the  sound  of  a  beloved 
voice,  the  grasp  of  a  familiar  hand,  and  the  unity  of 
profound  love,  the  dearest  thing  which  wealth  can 
never  buy. 

Away  from  the  glare  and  heat  of  the  cities,  away 
from  the  civilised  world,  away  from  home  and  friends 
and  all  that  the  young  hold  dear,  was  Tom  Gurney. 
Yet  he  was  very  happy,  and  grateful  to  those  who 
had  given  him  the  opportunity  of  starting  in  life  in  a 
new  country. 

The  splendid  climate  had  given  him  renewed 
health  and  spirits,  which  influenced  his  physical 
nature  and  the  tendencies  of  his  mind,  rendering  him 
less  hopeless,  and  making  him  forget  much  of  his 
shame. 

The  roadside  store  which  had  been  Tom's  home  for 
the  last  two  years  belonged  to  his  friend's  father,  Mr. 
Webb,  and  was  known  as  Malan  store.  It  was 
situated  near  the  Vaal  River,  which  forms  the  bound- 
ary between  the  Orange  Free  State  and  the  South 
African  Republic. 

The  store  itself  was  a  commodious  one-storied  build- 
ing. In  appearance  it  was  of  somewhat  rude  make  ; 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST.  \  \  7 

sand  and  sun-dried  bricks  being  the  only  commodities 
at  hand.  It  was  used  for  articles  of  sale  alone,  and 
the  accommodation  was  hardly  sufficient  for  the 
demand  made  upon  it.  Three  hundred  yards  apart 
from  the  store  was  the  house  occupied  by  Mr.  Bates 
the  manager,  two  clerks,  and  Tom  Gurney.  Both 
buildings  stood  by  the  side  of  the  track  which  served 
as  a  "waggon  road"  across  the  undulating  veldt, 
over  which  travellers  often  had  very  disagreeable 
experiences. 

Tom  had  frequently  known  an  ox-waggon  to  arrive 
at  the  store  the  occupants  of  which  could  tell  him 
of  blinding  storms  of  dust  swirling  and  sweeping  all 
that  lay  before  them,  of  fearful  paroxysms  in  the 
storm,  the  fury  of  the  wind,  the  terrible  darkness,  the 
dazzling  flashes  of  lurid  lightning  followed  by  deaf- 
ening peals  of  thunder.  But  as  suddenly  as  the 
storm  arose  came  the  lull,  and  the  sun  would  shine 
over  the  veldt  with  renewed  lustre  and  beauty. 

From  the  store  little  could  be  seen  but  short,  stunted 
grass,  and  there  were  no  trees  to  spread  forth  great 
arms  of  bushy  leaves  to  give  a  grateful  shade  from, 
the  scorching  heat  of  the  midday  sun — bare,  intoler- 
ably hot,  the  air  often  heavy  with  dust,  it  tried  the 
patience  of  the  four  Englishmen  at  times  almost  be- 
yond endurance. 

When  no  clouds  of  dust  were  rising  from  the  ox- 
waggons  there  could  be  seen  in  the  far  distance  a 
collective  circle  of  huts — Kaffir  kraals — just  distin- 
guishable against  the  clear  blue  sky,  where  the  stal- 
wart forms  of  the  Zulus  reposed  during  the  heat  of 
the  day. 

Tom  would  sigh  sometimes  when  he  gazed  upon 
the  little  piece  of  enclosed  land  which  surrounded  the 
store  and  dwelling-house,  where  nothing  grew  but  a 
field  of  mealies  and  a  few  common  vegetables,  and 
he  would  long  for  just  one  sight  of  an  English  gar- 
den, with  its  roses  and  budding  carnations,  its  fresh- 
ness and  its  summer  beauty. 


I  r  8  SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST. 

But  with  the  thoughts  of  the  flowers  came  the  re- 
membrance of  his  mother,  and  his  sigh  would  turn 
to  a  happy  smile  of  contentment  because  no  shame 
arose  from  the  mealie  field  or  from  the  great  tract  of 
land  which  lay  beyond. 

Tom's  life  was  a  busy  one  despite  the  lack  of  genial 
companionship  and  the  fact  that  the  nearest  neigh- 
bours were  four  weary  miles  away  and  all  the  farms 
just  as  far  apart 

The  Boers  were  continually  riding  their  pack- 
horses  up  to  the  store,  or  driving  in  their  ox-waggons, 
for  the  purpose  of  bartering  for  goods  and  drink. 
They  would  bring  skins  or  wool,  and  sometimes 
garden  stuff,  tied  up  in  rags  of  such  disgusting  ap- 
pearance that  they  were  speedily  dispensed  with. 
When  Tom  had  been  at  the  store  only  a  few  weeks, 
he  refused  on  several  occasions  to  receive  these  ex- 
changes ;  and  then  Mr.  Bates  explained  to  him  the 
nature  of  the  people  with  whom  they  had  to  deal. 

"You  must  always  take  something  in  exchange," 
he  told  Tom  kindly.  "It  does  not  matter  whether  it 
is  worthless  to  us  or  not.  The  Boers  are  our  cus- 
tomers. They  are  terribly  cute,  and  prefer  to  barter 
rather  than  pay  money,  in  the  hope  of  getting  the 
best  of  the  bargain.  If  once  you  refuse  to  take  their 
offer  all  the  farmers  round  would  hear  of  it,  and  we 
should  get  a  bad  name  and  lose  custom.  So,  when 
you  see  a  Boer  coming  to  the  store,  you  must  use 
your  eyes  and  your  tact  or  he  will  impose  on  your 
ignorance  and  we  may  be  considerable  losers." 

Tom  did  not  forget  this  friendly  warning,  and  for 
the  future  he  kept  very  strict  guard  over  all  the  trans- 
actions of  the  Boers. 

But  there  was  another  class  of  customers  who  were 
very  welcome  to  all  at  the  store,  and  those  were  the 
travellers  who  were  "on  the  road"  from  Durban  to 
Pretoria.  These  people  often  "  outspanned"  for  a  few 
hours,  and  then  was  the  opportunity  of  learning  news 
of  the  world  and  the  old  country.  It  was  a  source 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST.  1 1 9 

of  great  delight  to  Tom  to  watch  for  the  little  dim 
shadow,  which  in  the  far  distance  looked  like  a  tiny 
cloud,  gathering  larger  and  still  more  large  as  it  came 
towards  him.  He  knew  it  was  the  herald  of  the  ap- 
proach of  travellers,  and  that  the  mass  was  but  the 
dust,  the  result  of  the  team  of  oxen  drawing:  the  sjreat 

7  o  o 

heavy  lumbering  waggon  towards  the  store.  Their 
progress  was  always  slow,  and  Tom  would  watch 
with  interest  the  slow  pace  of  the  oxen  coming  across 
the  veldt,  with  their  freight  of  human  beings  and 
cases  of  goods  and  furniture.  But  sometimes,  as  the 
waggon  came  nearer,  much  to  Tom's  chagrin,  it  was 
found  to  be  nothing  more  than  the  waggon  of  the 
travelling  "  smouse, "  making  for  the  store  to  buy 
clothes  and  other  things  suitable  for  emigrants  com- 
ing into  the  country  that  he  might  have  run  short  of. 
With  these  articles  the  smouse  traded,  visiting  the 
distant  farms  and  homesteads,  but  he  rarely  had 
much  news  to  convey  to  the  store,  and  he,  like  the 
riders  of  transport,  was  never  very  welcome. 

Through  the  kindness  of  Mr.  Bates,  Tom  Gurney 
had  seen  a  great  deal  of  the  vast  country  around  him. 
He  had  been  allowed  to  spend  a  short  holiday  at 
Barkly  West,  the  small  colonial  town  on  the  bank  of 
the  Vaal  River.  This  gave  him  the  opportunity  of 
wandering  in  many  picturesque  spots  by  the  broad, 
winding  stream,  and  enjoying  the  beauties  of  the 
scene,  which  to  him  had  all  the  pleasure  of  novelty, 
besides  being  a  relief  after  the  dry,  barren  surround- 
ings of  the  store.  On  one  occasion  he  had  been 
sent  to  Peniel  on  business  for  the  manager,  and  Tom 
was  delighted  to  make  acquaintance  with  the  first 
mining  town.  From  there  his  work  took  him  to 
Warrentown,  a  low-lying  district,  but  rich  in  luxuri- 
ous gardens,  fields,  and  fruit,  nourished  as  it  was  by 
the  irrigation  of  the  cool  waters  of  the  Vaal  River. 
There  was  much  to  impress  him,  and  on  his  return 
to  the  store  he  wrote  to  his  father,  giving  him  a  va- 
ried description  of  all  he  had  seen,  recounting  graphi- 


120  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

cally  the  fort  at  Barkly  West — or  Klipdrift  as  it  was 
once  called — and  which  had  no  other  significance 
than  implying  that  the  "drift"  or  ford  situated  close 
to  the  town,  for  the  accommodation  of  the  huge  ox- 
waggons  to  cross  the  Vaal,  was  very  stony  \vhen  the 
waters  were  not  too  high  to  render  it  dangerous. 
He  described  how  he  had  stumbled  and  slipped  over 
the  immense  number  of  loose  stones  which  were  ly- 
ing about  on  all  sides,  telling  their  silent  tale  of  how 
eager,  trembling  hands  had  turned  them  over  when 
Barkly  West  had  been  the  site  of  the  old  diamond 
"diggings." 

Whenever  he  wrote  these  long  letters  home  a  long- 
ing to  have  his  father  and  sister  with  him  always 
arose  in  his  mind.  Yet  he  knew  his  father  would 
never  settle  down  to  the  new  life  and  his  sister  be- 
come the  wife  of  a  colonist  So,  after  all,  they  were 
best  in  the  old  country.  But  sometimes  he  felt  he 
would  give  much  to  meet  one  gentle  English  girl, 
someone  with  whom  he  could  exchange  a  few  tender, 
refined  words.  But  though  he  loved  to  linger  over 
the  thought,  he  quickly  banished  it  Was  it  likely 
that  the  barren  veldt,  the  heavy  ox-waggon,  could 
furnish  him  with  such  a  treasure? 

But  there  is  a  fate  even  in  the  desert  land. 

One  hot  afternoon,  as  there  were  no  customers  in 
sight,  the  manager  locked  the  door  of  the  store,  and 
he  and  his  clerks  went  forth  to  indulge  in  a  game  of 
cricket  The  ground  was  hot,  dried,  and  cracked,  and 
it  was  some  time  before  Tom  could  arrange  the 
wickets  satisfactorily.  At  length  the  game  began. 
The  spectators  consisted  of  a  little  band  of  Kaffirs 
and  Swazi  labourers  from  the  store,  who  sat  at  a 
safe  distance,  watching  with  silent,  scornful  wonder 
the  "  white  man's"  eccentricities.  So  eager  was  the 
play  that  a  cloud  of  dust  gradually  developing  in  the 
distance  was  unheeded,  and  the  tent  waggon,  drawn 
by  fourteen  slow-going  oxen,  came  towards  them. 

Suddenly  Tom  called  to  his  companions. — 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST.  121 

"  Look  out,  old  fellows,  customers  are  on  the  way. " 

At  this  bats,  balls,  and  wickets  disappeared,  and 
they  all  turned  to  the  store  to  be  ready  to  supply  the 
necessities  required  by  the  advancing1  party. 

When  the  waggon  drew  up  it  was  seen  to  contain 
a  middle-aged  man,  George  Herepath,  a  young  girl, 
a  little  younger  than  Tom,  and  three  small  boys. 

A  couple  of  Swazis  were  in  charge  of  the  oxen,  and 
all  seemed  very  fatigued  after  their  dusty  and  heated 
journey.  Mr.  Herepath  alighted,  and  Tom,  who  had 
lingered  near  the  door  of  the  store  to  satisfy  his  curi- 
osity as  to  who  had  arrived,  was  the  first  to  be  ad- 
dressed. 

Tom  saw  with  one  rapid  glance  that  the  man  stand- 
ing before  him  was  a  gentleman  and  an  Englishman, 
two  virtues  highly  appreciated  at  the  store.  Yet  there 
was  something  strikingly  sad  about  the  stranger's 
face  ;  it  was  so  grave,  so  devoid  of  happiness,  that 
it  gave  Tom  the  impression  that  he  was  either  ill  or 
disappointed  with  his  prospects  in  the  new  country, 
and  a  pity  arose  in  his  heart  for  him  even  before  he 
spoke. 

The  voice  of  the  stranger  was  subdued  and  almost 
weary  in  its  monotone  as  he  said, — 

"  Good-day,  sir;  can  you  tell  us  where  we  can 
outspan  for  the  night?  We  must  rest  a  few  hours, 
replenish  our  stock  of  provisions,  and  look  to  the 
beasts.  We  have  kept  close  to  the  waggon  road,  and 
there  have  been  several  long  reaches  without  surface 
water.  The  cattle  must  be  both  hungry  and  thirsty." 

"Certainly,"  replied  Tom.  "  Look  here,  "he  called 
to  the  two  Swazis,  "  you  can  draw  the  waggon  near 
to  the  enclosure  by  the  house,  and  the  oxen  can  feed 
a  little  lower  down.  The  grass  is  the  best  we  have 
about,  and  there  is  plenty  of  water." 

Before  there  was  time  for  the  stranger  to  utter  his 
thanks  Mr.  Bates  came  out  to  the  waggon. 

"  They  are  an  English  party,"  said  Tom,  "  and 
they  will  outspan  here  for  the  night.  I  have  told 


.132  SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WD  US  T. 

the  men  where  to  take  the  oxen.     Is  that  right,  sir?  " 

"Quite,"  replied  Mr.  Bates  with  satisfaction.  "And 
so  you  have  come  from  Durban,  I  suppose  ?  "  he  said, 
turning  to  the  stranger. 

"  Yes,  we  are  on  our  way  to  Pretoria,"  remarked 
the  man  in  a  hopeless  voice.  "  Sometimes  I  wish  I 
had  never  brought  the  chicks  so  far ;  but  here  we 
are,  so  I  suppose  I  may  as  well  make  up  my  mind 
to  put  up  with  It." 

"  How  many  are  there  of  you?"  asked  Mr.  Bates, 
ignoring  the  man's  discontented  mood. 

"  My  daughter  and  three  little  boys,"  said  the  man 
sadly.  "Five  of  us  altogether.  There  were  six  when 
.we  started  from  England,  but  my  wife  died  on  the 
voyage  out,  and  we  buried  her  at  sea,"  he  added  in 
a  tone  of  deep  distress. 

"  Well,  suppose  the  Swazis  take  the  waggon  to  the 
outspan  and  you  bring  your  little  family  in  to  supper/' 
said  Mr.  Bates  kindly,  really  sorry  for  the  man's 
trouble  in  a  lone  land. 

The  offer  was  gladly  accepted,  and  soon  the  matter 
of  introductions  was  over  and  the  party  sat  down  to 
a  very  hospitable  board.  Mr.  Bates  and  Mr.  Here- 
path  kept  up  a  lengthy  conversation  about  the  country 
in  general,  touching  on  the  administration  and  the 
different  settlements  and  the  local  irritation  in  some 
of  the  outlying  districts  ;  the  three  younger  boys 
made  merry  with  the  clerks  ;  and  Tom  Hasketh — 
the  name  he  had  always  been  known  by  in  the  coun- 
try he  had  adopted  as  his  home — was  left  to  entertain 
Fanny  Herepath. 

She  was  a  finely  developed  girl,  with  dark  eyes 
and  hair,  and  her  whole  appearance  was  one  of  the 
greatest  intelligence.  Honesty  of  purpose,  an  out- 
spoken manner,  a  determination  to  make  the  best 
of  the  journey  at  once  won  Tom's  admiration,  and 
his  sympathy  was  aroused  when  she  told  him  with 
faltering  voice  of  the  death  of  her  mother. 

"  I  shall  have  father  and  the  bovs  to  see  after  now. 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST.  \  33 

It's  a  good  thing  I'm  strong,  for  with  health  I  can  be 
the  right  hand  and  do  for  them  as  mother  would  have, 
wished." 

"  It  will  be  a  dreadful  toil  for  you,  in  anew  country 
too.  I  am  awfully  sorry  for  you." 

'•  I  hope  I  have  a  brave  heart,  "she  replied  stoutly. 
"  It  is  no  use  to  be  thinking  of  the  work  before  me. 
It  is  best  to  meet  it  as  it  comes." 

"  You  are  brave,"  said  Tom  with  genuine  admira- 
tion, "  and  I  am  sure  your  father  and  brothers  will 
find  you  a  treasure." 

"  I  must  help  them  all  I  can.  The  children  must 
not  miss  her  care,"  she  added  softly.  "  And  as  to 
father,  I  can  make  him  comfortable  and  get  a  home 
around  him.  Happy  he  will  never  be  now  mother 
is  dead.  Poor  father,  he  has  lost  his  money  and  his 
wife  all  in  a  year.  This  time  twelvemonths  death 
and  ruin  seemed  very  faraway.  It  does  seem  years 
since  then." 

Something  like  tears  glistened  in  her  big  brown 
eyes,  and  Tom  offered  all  the  consolation  he.  could. 

"  Brighter  days  are  in  store  for  you  at  Pretoria," 
he  said  cheerfully.  "  Your  father  will  grow  strong 
and  rich,  the  boys  will  be  giants  in  their  strength 
and  health,  and  you  will  marry  a  rich  colonist." 

"Marry,  and  leave  the  children!"  she  repeated 
with  contempt,  as  if  the  suggestion  had  been  almost 
an  insult  when  her  duties  lay  in  the  little  family  circle. 
"Never;  I  shall  never  leave  them — never,"  she 
added  with  emphasis. 

"But  they  will  not  be  children  always,  said  Tom 
apologetically.  "  Of  course  I  meant  when  they  were 
big  boys." 

"That  will  be  a  long  time.  Let  me  see,  Percy  is 
only  ten,  and  Willie  eight,  and  Georgy  seven.  They 
are  all  babies,"  she  added  sadly,  "  and — motherless." 

Suddenly,  as  if  wishing  to  break  the  line  of  con- 
versation and  change  the  subject  to  one  more  pleasant, 
she  exclaimed, — 


124-  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

"  Thejourney  here  was  most  enjoyable.  If  novelty 
could  be  said  to  give  pleasure ;  we  had  several  ad- 
ventures which  interested  me.  Do  you  care  to  hear, 
or  does  it  bore  you?  I  daresay  my  experiences  will 
be  only  the  old  stories  over  again." 

"  I  shall  be  a  most  delighted  listener,"  replied  Tom. 
"  Any  news  is  appreciated  I  can  tell  you.  In  this 
region,  charming  as  it  is,  the  isolation  from  the  outer 
world  is  trying  at  times  and  makes  us  greedy  for 
incident  of  any  kind.  Please  go  on." 

She  smiled  and  continued, — 

"  Coming  across  the  veldt  our  trek  of  oxen  had  a 
c  scrick '  and   bolted.     We  were  afraid  we  should  be 
upset,  but  our  Swazi  driver  handled  them  splendidly. 
They  ran  a  long  distance.     The  boys  enjoyed  it,  but 
I  knew  the  danger." 

"  What  scared  them  ?  "  asked  Tom. 

"  The  smell  of  the  lion  skin  at  the  back  of  the 
waggon  ;  it  is  strange  that  oxen  should  be  so  afraid 
of  even  the  smell  of  a  lion,"  said  Fanny  Herepath 
thoughtfully. 

"  It  is,"  replied  Tom  ;  "  but  they  must  possess 
some  wonderful  instinct,  for  it  is  a  fact  that  calves 
born  in  the  colony  and  grown  up  here,  who  have 
never  seen  a  lion,  will  bolt  at  the  smell  of  the  skin." 

"  When  they  stopped  they  were  very  restless, 
and  our  'voorlooper'  had  to  lead  the  two  front 
oxen  even  when  there  were  no  dangerous  places  for 
him  to  guide  them  over  ;  but  he  advised  us  to  out- 
span  for  a  time.  So  we  did,  or  we  should  have  ar- 
rived here  a  day  earlier.  After  that  we  came  along 
splendidly,  until  we  came  across  a  waggon  which 
had  broken  down  on  the  road,  and  we  waited  to 
help  the  Boer  and  his  vrouw  and  children  out  of 
their  difficulties." 

"  Did  you  come  across  any  of  the  Zulus  asking  for 
tobacco,  or  what  they  call  gwi?  " 

"  Not  any,"  said  Fanny  ;   "are  they  fond  of  it?" 

"Very.     Sometimes  the  whole  of  a  Zulu  kraal  will 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  125 

surround  a  waggon  and  demand  with  the  greatest 
persistence  gwi,  and  nothing  will  satisfy  them  until 
their  demands  are  attended  to  ;  and  it  is  a  funny 
sight  to  watch  both  men  and  women  sitting  smoking 
with  their  bone  pipes,  made  out  of  the  leg  bone  of 
blesbok.  It's  a  pity  you  did  not  come  across  them." 

"  What  are  blesbok  ?  "  asked  Fanny.  "You  see," 
she  continued,  "  I  know  very  little  of  the  country  at 
present,  and  the  name  is  quite  unfamiliar  to  me." 

"  Blesbok,  springbok,  koodoo,  and  elands  are  large 
game,  and  fine  sport  for  those  who  have  time  to  go 
out  gun  in  hand.  A  Kaffir  brought  me  a  slice  once, 
and  showed  me  how  to  prepare  it — the  flavour  was 
delicious." 

"Have  you  many  flowers  here?"  asked  Fanny 
Herepath  ;  "it  all  looks  so  bare,  so  dry  and  dusty." 

"Well,  you  see,  you  are  rather  too  late,  and  not 
early  enough  for  what  few  there  are.  The  stony 
roads  between  the  low  hills  are  covered  by  a  plant 
called  the  Vaal  bush  ;  the  perfume  is  sweet,  the  leaves 
are  often  boiled  and  used  as  tea,  and  very  pleas- 
ant in  flavour  ;  and  I  have  seen  lilies  quite  equal  to 
any  met  with  in  English  greenhouses  growing  among 
the  rocks  in  the  kloofs  near  to  the  springs.  But,  of 
course,  to  my  mind  there  can  be  no  flowers  so 
beautiful  as  those  which  grow  in  the  dear  old  coun- 
try." 

Somehow,  flowers  always  reminded  Tom  of  his 
home.  The  blooms  on  the  veldt  spoke  silently  of 
the  sweet-scented  roses  in  the  cottage  homes  of  Eng- 
land. 

"Ah!  I  must  not  think  of  England,"  said  the 
girl,  rising  from  the  table  ;  "  where  the  thoughts  are 
the  wish  will  sure  to  follow,  and  I  must  be  content 
where  I  am  for  the  sake  of  the  others." 

Tom  knew  then  that  the  girlish  heart  was  very 
sore,  that  the  craving  for  home  was  very  keen,  and 
what  an  effort  it  was  to  speak  so  bravely  for  the  sake 
of  those  she  held  so  dear. 


126-  SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST. 

Surely  no  soldier  went  to  the  battlefield  with  more 
heart,  more  courage  to  fight  for  Queen  and  Country. 

Mr.  Bates  and  Mr.  Herepath  had  finished  their 
lengthy  chat,  and  the  clerks  had  done  their  best  to 
amuse  the  little  boys.  Altogether  the  evening  had 
been  very  happily  spent.  Tom  was  more  struck 
with  his  charming  companion  than  he  would  like  to 
have  owned. 

And  they  all  retired  to  their  outspan  more  cheer- 
ful for  the  hospitality  offered  them  and  the  genial 
companionship. 

Fanny  Herepath  and  her  little  brothers  retired  to 
rest  in  the  waggon,  upon  a  thick  mattress  and  plenty 
of  rugs,  but  her  father  occupied  a  tent  attached  to  the 
waggon,  while  the  Swazi  drivers  made  themselves 
comfortable  beneath  it. 

But  Tom  did  not  repose  so  peacefully.  His 
thoughts  were  upon  Fanny  Herepath,  and  when  he 
did  fall  asleep  it  was  but  to  dream  of  her  trouble 
and  her  bravery,  and  to  wish  she  was  not  going  to 
Pretoria,  so  far  away. 

When  the  morning  at  last  dawned,  Tom  and 
Fanny  Herepath  met  again.  This  time  they  stood 
outside  the  store,  Tom  helping  the  native  labourers 
td  put  tea,  coffee,  sugar,  mealies,  and  flour  into  the 
waggon,  whilst  Mr.  Herepath  was  hearing  from  Mr. 
Bates  a  description  of  the  road,  and  where  water 
was  to  be  met  with  between  the  store  and  Pretoria. 

After  the  necessaries  were  loaded,  Tom  stayed  by 
Fanny's  side,  watching  a  group  of  Zulu  girls,  who 
had  brought  maize  and  vegetables  to  the  store  to  ex- 
change for  some  beads  and  brass  wire,  which  they 
used  as  ornaments. 

"They  are  very  handsome  girls,"  said  Fanny  with 
admiration. 

"Yes,  some  of  the  Kaffir  tribes  are  very  hand- 
some," said  Tom.  "They  are  so  tall,  so  erect.  I 
never  saw  a  Kaffir  woman  stoop." 

"How  is  that  ?  "  asked  Fanny  with  curiosity. 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  127 

"  The  constant  habit  of  carrying  heavy  Kaffir  pots 
of  water  on  their  heads.  This,  of  course,  can  only 
be  done  by  walking  very  upright,"  replied  Tom. 

"Are  you  ready,  Fanny,  my  girl  ?"  broke  in  her 
father.  "  We  shall  start  d'irectly. " 

"Dear  me!  I  nearly  forgot  that  I  want  some 
needles,"  replied  the  girl.  "You  have  some  here, 
of  course  ?  " 

She  went  into  the  store  with  Tom.  He  was  a 
minute  or  so  before  he  returned  to  her,  and  when  he 
did  so  he  carried  a  small  box  in  his  hand. 

"  Will  you  accept  this,  Miss  Herepath,  as  a  little 
remembrance  of  our  pleasant  meeting  ?  It  contains 
needles,  pins,  and  cotton  sufficient  tor  six  months. 
It  will  give  me  much  pleasure  if  you  will  take  it." 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Hasketh,"  added  the  girl  grate- 
fully, whilst  her  flushed  face  betrayed  how  great  was 
her  pleasure  at  the  gift.  "It  is  my  first  present  in 
the  new  country.  I  wonder  who  will  give  me  the 
next  ? " 

"Perhaps  I  may,"  said  Tom.  "  I  fancy  we  shall 
meet  again  some  day.  I  hope  so,  indeed  I  do." 

She  looked  up,  somewhat  astonished  at  his  earnest 
tone. 

Without  thinking,  she  answered, — 

"  I  hope  so  too.      It  would  be  delightful." 

All  the  odds  and  ends  were  in  the  waggon,  the 
Swazi  drivers  had  taken  their  places  on  the  waggon 
box,  the  voorlooper  was  standing  by  the  trek  of 
oxen,  all  was  ready  for  the  start. 

"Good-bye,"  said  Fanny  kindly  to  Tom,  as  he 
placed  her  in  the  waggon,  "and  thank  you  very 
much." 

"Good-bye,"  replied  Tom  quietly,  as  he  squeezed 
her  hand  in  his.  "  We  shall  meet  again,  Miss  Here- 
path,  some  day.  Remember  me  till  then." 

"I  will,"  she  said,  as  the  waggon  moved  off. 
"  Good-bye." 

Tom  stood  watching  it  growing  less  and  less  across 


128  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

the  veldt.  He  saw  the  distant  hills,  one  blaze  of 
golden  light,  the  clear  atmosphere  casting  lovely 
and  varied  reflection  around  him.  Above  was  the 
bright,  glowing  sky,  a  brilliant  landscape  almost  too 
grand  to  be  appreciated  by  mankind. 

But  the  waggon  had  gone.  It  was  hidden  alto- 
gether behind  a  rise  in  the  land,  and  as  Tom  turned 
towards  the  store  it  seemed  as  if  some  of  the  tints  in 
the  rosy  sky  had  faded  and  some  of  the  loveliness  of 
the  morning  had  departed. 

They  would  meet  again  some  day.  He  was  sure 
of  that 

And  so  was  she. 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST.  1 29 


CHAPTER  XIL 

• 

"MOTHER  ! — LEILA  !  " 

FIVE  years  had  passed,  and  to  Leila  they  had  been 
very  weary  years.  Never  very  strong  in  health,  the 
life  had  told  upon  her  delicate  constitution.  Per- 
forming as  she  was  obliged,  at  the  circus  with  Cas- 
telli  every  day,  sometimes  twice,  and  the  constant 
moving  from  place  to  place,  either  on  the  Continent 
or  in  England,  fatigued  her  dreadfully.  However, 
worn  out  and  tired,  she  must  move  on  when  her 
duties  called  her.  There  had  been  no  home  life, 
nothing  but  exchanging  one  set  of  apartments  for 
another,  one  town  for  the  next  Added  to  this  she 
had  the  heavy  responsibilities  of  motherhood.  Two 
children,  a  little  fair  girl  of  four  and  a  delicate  boy 
of  three  years,  claimed  her  love  and  her  care.  To 
them  Leila  was  devoted.  It  was  for  their  sakes  that 
she  struggled  so  bravely  against  the  hardships  of  her 
life.  It  was  for  them  that  she  faced  her  husband's 
anger  and  toiled  as  the  slave  at  the  galley. 

Had  it  not  been  for  the  kindness  of  some  of  the 
wives  of  the  riders,  and  other  artistes,  Leila  would 
have  had  a  much  harder  time  of  it  than  she  had,  for 
some  of  them  were  always  willing  to  "mind"  the 
children  whilst  the  mother  was  at  her  rehearsals, 
and  in  the  evening  they  would  offer  to  let  one  of 
their  children  go  up  and  sit  with  them  until  they  fell 
asleep.  These  acts  of  genuine  kindness  touched 
Leila  to  the  heart,  and  bound  her  with  a  debt  of 
gratitude  and  love  to  those  so  far  beneath  her. 

It  had  been  a  terrible  time  for  Leila  when  she  had 


130 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 


awakened  to  the  true  character  of  her  much  loved 
husband,  when  she  found  how  hard  and  cruel  he 
was.  At  first  the  dawning  of  the  truth  stupefied  her, 
she  could  not  grasp  the  situation.  But  the  conscious- 
ness came  all  too  soon,  and  she  knew  then  the 
awfulness  of  her  position. 

Discarded  by  her  father,  and  as  she  thought  by  her 
brother  also,  for  she  had  not  heard  from  Tom  since 
her  marriage,  the  wife  of  a  man  who  had  forgotten 
the  love  he  had  promised  her  when  he  first  sought 
and  won  her  girlish  heart — was  it  any  wonder  that 
she  looked  back  on  the  past,  sometimes  revelling  in 
the  visions  which  memory  raised  in  moments  when 
she  was  free  from  care?  These  feelings  of  the  by- 
gone days  were  the  only  joy,  the  only  light  piercing 
through  the  gloom,  and  she  welcomed  them  with  an 
unhealthy  yearning. 

Poor  Leila,  was  it  not  a  shame  that  a  husband's 
harshness,  a  husband's  cruelty  should  dispel  the 
promised  love  and  joy,  and  that  grief  and  fear  should 
break  the  dream  once  so  fraught  with  bliss? 

Bui  alas,  it  was  so  ! 

Five  years  of  dark  shadows  had  not  tended  to  im- 
prove Leila's  character.  A  great  deal  of  the  gen- 
tleness and  sweetness  of  disposition  was  changed. 
She  had  grown  cold,  unbending,  doing  her  duty,  and 
suffering  in  silence,  asking  neither  for  praise  nor 
sympathy.  It  was  only  when  Castelli  was  displeased 
with  her  that  any  of  the  old  and  more  kindly  nature 
showed  itself.  His  power  over  her  was  as  strong 
as  in  the  earlier  days.  Sometimes  she  would  plead 
with  him  not  to  speak  such  cruel  words,  to  kiss  her 
just  once. 

But  he  refused  the  transient  pleasure  that  love 
demanded,  and  Leila  would  turn  away  and  try  to 
crush  the  pain  and  still  her  throbbing  heart. 

Once  when  she  was  rehearsing,  too  weary  and 
depressed  to  take  much  interest  in  her  work,  a  sharp 
cut  from  his  whip  and  a  fearful  oath  from  his  lips 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  13! 

caused  her  to  faint  from  actual  physical  pain  and 
fear.  It  was  the  first  time  he  had  ever  struck  her, 
and  like  a  crushed  flower  she  bent  her  head  and 
dared  not  look  up  for  very  shame. 

She  would  have  left  him  after  that,  but  the  mother- 
hood within  her  bade  her  stay.  Must  she  not  guard 
the  little  ones,  and  shield  them,  and  be  the  bright 
star  to  shine  over  them  through  all  the  miseries  of 
their  roving  life  ?  to  be  near  to  comfort  them,  to  dry 
the  tears  from  the  baby  faces,  to  win  back  the  smiles 
to  rosy  lips  ?  Yes,  that  was  her  duty. 

Fear,  shame,  and  despair  must  be  endured  for  their 
sweet  sakes — the  tender,  the  young,  from  whose  lips 
the  divine  words  "  mother"  gave  Leila  such  intense 
happiness.  For  them  she  would  have  sacrificed  her 
life  if  the  need  arose,  and  yet  their  father  was  the 
man  from  whom  she  had  received  the  greatest 
insults. 

But  she  was  their  mother. 

The  circus  had  been  in  Pan's  some  time,  and 
Castelli  and  Leila  had  done  much  by  their  perform- 
ances to  draw  large  audiences  to  the  cirque  in  the 
Champs  Elysees,  and  the  weeks  had  passed  more 
quietly  than  usual.  Her  apartments  off  the  Faubourg 
St.  Honor&  were  comfortable,  and  if  the  street  was 
small  at  least  it  was  quiet,  and  this  Leila  enjoyed 
after  the  wear  and  tear  of  constant  travelling. 

The  Lenten  gloom  was  over,  and  Eastertide,  with 
its  joys  and  pleasure,  had  begun.  The  streets  were 
so  full  that  it  was  hard  work  to  get  along ;  the  cafes 
were  crammed  with  men,  women,  and  children  ; 
some  of  the  visitants  were  sitting  sipping  their  coffee 
and  cognac  at  the  small  round  marble  tables  outside 
and  enjoying  the  passing  and  repassing  of  the 
mighty  throng. 

There  was  life  and  pleasure  everywhere. 

Leila,  carrying  her  baby  boy  and  guiding  Vanda 
as  best  she  could,  hurried  through  the  crowded 
streets.  She  looked  so  pale  and  weary  that  the  people 


132 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 


at  the  tables  gave  her  glances  of  sympathy  as  she 
passed,  and  murmured  words  of  pity,  and  ceased 
their  chattering  to  watch  her  on  her  way. 

"  Keep  close  to  me,  Vanda,  darling,  or  mother 
will  lose  you/' 

"  How  far  is  it  now,  mother?  " 

"  Not  far,  darling." 

Leila  was  getting  exhausted,  the  weight  of  her  boy 
was  considerable ;  but  she  hurried  on,  looking 
neither  to  the  right  nor  left,  and  never  paused  until 
she  reached  the  Bodega  in  the  Rue  Rivote.  She  was 
about  to  enter,  when  a  short,  dark  man  of  about 
thirty  years  of  age  stepped  up  to  her. 

"You  are  here  first,  then,  Ringens,"  said  Leila, 
calling  him  by  the  name  he  adopted  as  a  clown — the 
children  had  always  called  the  clown  Ringens,  and 
so  the  custom  had  grown  until  his  real  name  was 
nearly  lost. 

"Your  husband  told  me  you  would  be  here  at 
five,  it  is  now  nearly  half-past." 

"  The  boy  was  so  heavy,"  panted  Leila,  "  and  the 
crowd  so  great,  I  had  difficulty  in  getting  Vanda 
along." 

"  Let  me  take  the  child,"  said  the  man  kindly. 
"He's  much  too  heavy  for  you.  You  must  have 
some  cognac  before  we  start." 

Leila  was  exhausted  by  her  efforts,  and  she  drank 
the  brandy  eagerly.  How  gladly  would  she  have 
rested  at  home  that  one  evening  of  freedom.  She 
had  ridden  twice  that  afternoon,  and  during  the  fete 
week  the  evening  performance  was  more  varied,  and 
Leila  for  once  was  free. 

She  had  decided  to  take  her  children  for  a  treat  to 
ihefe/e  to  give  them  a  holiday  ;  but  almost  at  the 
last  moment  her  husband  had  forbidden  her  to  go 
unaccompanied.  If  she  could  find  one  of  the  artistes 
to  go  with  her,  well  and  good,  if  not,  she  must 
remain  with  the  children  at  home. 

By  mere  chance  she  learned  that  Ringens  was  not 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  133 

to  appear  in  the  evening-,  and  she  begged  him  to 
assist  her  in  carrying  out  her  plan. 

If  her  husband  were  willing,  Ringens  was,  and  so 
the  children  spent  their  holiday  at  the_///e. 

Dick  Wynscote,  known  in  the  ring  as  Ringens, 
was  much  respected  by  his  fellow-artistes  and  those 
connected  with  the  different  circuses  he  visited.  His 
character  was  beyond  suspicion.  He  never  thought 
it  necessary  to  use  profane  oaths,  or  in  any  way  to  dis- 
grace his  name  as  husband  and  father.  He  had 
married  a  country  lassie  whom  he  had  loved  since 
boyish  days  ;  and  much  as  he  liked  to  have  her  with 
him,  he  never  allowed  her  to  undergo  the  fatigues  of 
a  Gontinential  tour. 

"  My  wife  and  the  babies  are  best  in  London,"  he 
would  say  when  inquiries  were  made  about  Mrs. 
Wynscote. 

And  Leila  wished  sometimes  that  Castelli  would  be 
as  thoughtful  for  her,  but  then  she  earned  good  sal- 
aries, and  Mrs.  Wynscote  had  nothing  to  do  but  care 
for  her  home  and  her  children. 

At  one  great  circus  Dick  Wynscote  had  been 
christened  in  derision  "Saint  Ringens,"  because  on 
Sunday  morning  he  regularly  attended  the  service  at 
the  cathedral.  "It  is  better  to  be  a  saint  than  a 
sinner,"  he  would  reply,  "and  I  intend  to  serve  my 
God  as  well  as  I  serve  my  master." 

Upon  this  point  he  was  always  firm,  and  Leila 
would  sometimes  gain  much  comfort  when  he  spoke 
to  her  of  a  higher  life  where  the  toil  and  misery  would 
end  for  ever.  Indeed  he  had  been  her  one  friend 
during  the  long  Continential  tour,  and  Castelli  had 
made  no  objection  to  their  chats  and  strolls  ;  and 
this  was  a  great  pleasure  to  Leila. 

So  it  was,  as  it  will  be  for  ever,  the  power  of  good 
asserted  itself,  and  was  felt  even  by  those  whose 
ways  are  ill  and  whose  deeds  are  dark. 

Relieved  of  the  child,  she  managed  to  get  along 
better,  and  they  were  soon  in  the  great  public  gar- 


134  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

dens.  They  wandered  about  for  some  time  show- 
ing1 the  children  all  likely  to  interest  them,  and  then 
Ring-ens  suggested  they  should  take  some  seats 
within  a  cafe  chantant  and  listen  to  the  concert  about 
to  begin.  A  magnificent  band  had  already  com- 
menced a  lively  waltz,  the  gardens  were  one  blaze 
of  lamps  and  light,  the  people  were  preparing-  with 
a  graceful  yet  matter  of  course  air  for  the  coming 
cheap  amusement.  Leila  was  glad  enough  to  rest. 

The  first  artiste  to  appear  was  quite  a  young  girl, 
who  in  a  bespangled  dress  flaunted  her  coarse,  bold 
manners  to  the  immense  delight  of  the  audience. 
With  apparent  relish  she  sang  a  song  which  caused 
Leila  to  flush  deeply.  She  was  ashamed  of  her  sex, 
but  the  people  a'pplauded  and  would  have  an  encore, 
and  the  girl  grew  more  forward  with  her  successful 
reception,  more  vulgar,  more  loose  in  her  songs. 
At  last  she  left  the  stage  with  a  knowing  wink  and 
a  nod,  much  to  everyone's  amusement,  but  Leila 
felt  nothing  but  disgust  and  annoyance. 

Her  natural  refinement  rebelled  against  anything 
which  tended  to  pander  to  low  tastes,  and  she  had 
frequently  desisted  from  visiting  many  of  the  cafe 
chantants  in  the  towns  in  which  they  had  been  resi- 
dent, because  the  amusements  provided  had  been 
distasteful  to  her. 

She  was  true  to  her  instincts  through  all. 

Vanda  began  to  fidget,   and  Leila  said  gently, — 

"  Sit  still,  dear.     What  is  the  matter  ?  " 

"I  am  so  tired,  mother,"  said  Vanda  wearily. 
"Can't  we  go  home?" 

"Yes,  darling,  soon."  And  then  she  leant  forward 
to  speak  to  Ringens,  who  sat  in  a  chair  before  her 
nursing  Adrian,  who  had  fallen  asleep.  "I  think  I 
must  go  soon,"  she  said  in  a  tone  of  half  apology, 
"the  children  are  so  tired." 

"  Do  you  mind  hearing  one  more  song,  and  then 
we  will  go?  Coloris  is  going  to  sing.  I  heard  her 
six  years  ago  in  Brussels  at  the  Casino.  She  was 


SLATES   OF  THE  SAWDUST.  13$ 

a  fine  woman,  really  beautiful,  with  a  good  voice." 

"Coloris,  what  a  funny  name,"  said  Leila,  some- 
what interested. 

"Yes,  but  it  means  colouring,  a  tint  on  a  picture, 
and  it  was  applicable  to  her,  her  face  was  so  bril- 
liant and  her  complexion  rich  and  dark.  She  is  Eng- 
lish, too,  and  must  be  getting  on  now.  I  thought 
she  had  left  the  Casino  business  long  ago." 

"  Has  she  any  children?"  inquired  Leila. 

"I  really  do  not  know.  I  am  afraid  there  has  been 
some  scandal  attached  to  her  name.  I  heard  so, 
but  do  not  let  that  bias  you  against  her,  because  it 
may  not  be  true." 

Leila  had  no  time  to  respond,  for  the  curtain  went 
up  and  a  tall,  elegant  woman  stepped  to  the  front  of 
the  stage.  She  was  dressed  in  a  white  silk  robe 
which  had  seen  its  best  days.  The  lace  and  the  rib- 
bons had  been  evidently  added,  but  with  all  she  was 
beautiful.  The  contour  of  her  limbs  could  be  seen 
as  the  clinging  silk  fell  in  scanty  folds.  Her  face 
was  thin,  but  the  glow  of  colour  was  there  in  the 
shape  of  two  brilliant  patches  on  either  cheek.  So 
strange,  so  weird  did  she  look  in  the  blaze  of  the 
footlights  that  most  of  the  audience  instantly  fixed 
their  eyes  upon  her  in  comparative  silence,  wonder- 
ing whether  her  quick,  hurried  breathing  was  nervous- 
ness or  illness.  Thinking  to  encourage  her,  they 
stamped  with  their  feet  and  clapped  their  hands 
lustily. 

It  was  during  this  tumult  that  Leila,  white  as 
death,  rose  from  her  seat  and  left  the  cafe  hurriedly. 

Ringens,  who  had  seen  her  leave,  followed  her 
hastily.  When  they  had  reached  the  quiet  gardens 
he  asked  her  if  she  were  ill. 

"No,  not  ill,"  she  gasped  faintly,  "  but  I  have  had 
a  great  shock.  "Coloris  is  " — she  paused — "  is  my 
mother  !  " 

"Your  mother,  Madame  Castelli  !  "  replied  Dick 
Wynscote  in  amazement,  "it  cannot  be." 


136  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

"  It  is— it  is  she."  She  trembled  so  violently  that  he 
feared  she  would  fall  to  the  ground. 

"Shall  1  fetch  someone  to  you?  Shall  I  go  for 
your  husband  ?  '  said  Ringens,  now  deeply  con- 
cerned. 

"  My  husband  !  "  The  word  seemed  to  make  her 
realise  the  situation  at  once,  and  in  a  distressed  tone 
she  cried  :  "  Leave  me  alone  for  one  minute,  I  shall 
soon  be  all  right ;  but  don't  send  for  Emilio  what- 
ever you  do  ;  don't  tell  him  I  have  seen  her,  will 
you  ?  "  she  asked  pleadingly. 

"  Certainly  not,  if  you  don't  wish  it,"  replied 
Ringens,  wondering  what  all  the  mystery  meant. 

She  recovered  soon,  however,  and  said  quickly, — 

"Give  me  Adrian.  Get  me  a  carriage;  I  will  go 
back  to  my  rooms.  And  you,  I  want  you  to  go  at 
once  and  find  out  my  mother's  position  and  what 
she  needs  before  I  see  her.  Break  it  to  her  gently, 
but  tell  her  I  will  come  and  see  her  to-morrow. 
She  is  dying,  lam  sure  of  that!"  exclaimed  Leila 
with  great  excitement.  "Please  don't  delay  or  I  may 
lose  her  again  for  ever." 

Ringens  placed  her  in  a  cab,  and  after  seeing  that 
she  and  her  children  were  comfortable,  he  hurried 
back  to  the  cafe  chaniant,,  but  the  wearied  singer  was 
gone.  After  some  difficulty  he  found  her  address, 
and  thither  he  proceeded  at  once. 

In  a  small  and  frowsy  room  on  the  top  floor  of  an 
old,  wretched  house  on  the  other  side  of  the  river,  he 
saw  the  broken-down  woman.  She  was  sitting  in  a 
faded  dressing-gown  when  he  entered,  leaning  with 
her  head  back  on  a  heap  of  soiled  cushions. 

He  explained  his  business,  and  gave  her  Leila's 
message.  She  listened  attentively,  not  breaking  the 
silence  once.  There  was  only  the  deepening  of  the 
crimson  flush  to  show  how  strongly  she  was  battling 
with  her  feelings. 

She  heard  that  her  daughter  was  the  wife  of  Emilio 
Castelli,  that  Leila  was  the  mother  of  two  little  chil- 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST. 


137 


dren,  and  that  she  wished  to  come  to  see  her  on  the 
morrow. 

Then  it  was  that  some  of  the  vigour  of  olden  days 
came  back,  and  she  paced  the  room  with  hurried 
steps.  Suddenly  she  exclaimed, — 

"You've  come  hereto  tell  me  of  my  daughter. 
You  tell  me  she  is  married  to  a  man  who  belongs  to 
a  circus.  They  let  her  come  to  that,  did  they?  Any- 
thing was  good  enough  for  the  child  of  the  erring 
mother,  the  runaway  wife.  Perhaps  you  do  not 
know  the  story,  do  you?"  she  asked  wildly. 

"Certainly  not,"  replied  Ringens.  "I  never 
knew  until  to-night  that  Madame  Castelli  had  a 
mother.  ' 

"Mother,  mother,"  she  repeated,  "  can  I  call  my- 
self a  mother?  /  who  left  her  years  ago,  /who 
brought  shame  on  her  name  and  ruin  to  her  home. 
I'm  not  fit  to  see  her,  not  fit  to  stand  in  the  same 
room  or  breathe  the  same  air  that  she  does.  What 
greater  curse  can  rest  upon  me  than  that?  And  yet," 
and  her  voice  became  more  gentle,  "  I  yearn  to  tell 
her  that  I  repent  of  all  my  sin,  that  I  am  contrite,  and 
implore  her  forgiveness.  Oh,  if  but  for  one  short 
hour  I  could  feel  happy,  if  I  could  clasp  my  children 
in  my  arms,  if  I  could," — her  voice  fell — "  if  I  could 
hear  my  husband  say,  'I  forgive  you.'  If  I  could 
feel  his  lips  touch  mine  I  should  die  happy  ;  but  he 
would  hurl  curses  at  me  who  wrought  his  ruin,  and 
his  fury  would  fall  upon  me  now  for  the  awful  past. 
I  am  deserted,  despised,  corrupted,  and  lost."  She 
grew  more  excited  as  she  continued.  "Would  it 
not  have  been  kinder  to  have  plunged  myself  into 
the  sea  f  The  record  of  my  life  would  have  gone 
then,  and  my  child  could  not  have  seen  me  as  I  am 
— degraded  and  shunned  by  all.  But  let  her  come 
if  she  will,  let  her  see  my  doom,  let  her  hear  me 
curse  my  destroyer  before  I  die.  She  shall  see  how 
he  left  me  to  exist,  without  money,  without  friends, 
like  a  dog  in  the  street ;  how  he  spurned  me  as  an 


138  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

evil  thing,   and  hurled  me  to  destruction.     Curses, 
curses  on  Herbert  Clifford  !  " 

She  sank  down  exhausted,  and  then  Dick  Wynscote 
saw  how  dreadfully  ill  she  really  was.  He  thought 
it  best  to  ignore  her  terrible  story,  and  inquired  if  she 
needed  anything  to  ease  her  panting,  laboured  breath. 

"  Want  anything  ?  "  she  repeated.  "  Do  you  know 
I  spent  my  last  franc  yesterday?  To-day  I  have 
only  eaten  from  that  loaf,"  pointing  to  a  small  piece 
on  a  plate,  "and  that  is  all  I  have  had.  I  have  been 
long  without  an  engagement.  I  cannot  earn  much 
now.  My  voice  has  no  strength  and  my  heart  is 
broken — and  I  am  dying,  I  know  it,"  she  added  sor- 
rowfully, 

Dick  Wynscote  took  a  handful  of  francs  from  his 
pocket  and  laid  them  on  the  table. 

"I  am  sure  your  daughter  would  like  you  to  send 
for  what  you  need.  Please  do  so,  and  to-morrow, 
please  God,  you  shall  see  her." 

He  rose  to  go.  There  was  nothing  he  could  say 
to  the  poor  half-frenzied  mother.  He  was  horrified 
at  all  he  had  heard,  and  had  no  desire  to  prolong  the 
interview. 

He  put  out  his  hand  and  grasped  hers  kindly,  and 
bid  her  good-night. 

He  went  home  and  wondered  how  men  could  ruin 
homes,  and  bring  those  they  tempted  to  sin  to  such 
degradation  and  misery. 

He  forgot  it  was  vice,  not  love. 

The  next  day  Ringens  related  to  Leila  his  experi- 
ence of  the  night  before,  and  he  urged  her  to  tell  her 
husband  and  get  his  consent  to  remove  the  unhappy 
woman  to  more  congenial  surroundings  ;  but  to  this 
Leila  was  strongly  opposed.  She  would  do  all  she 
could  for  her  mother,  and  supply  her  with  money, 
but  Emilio  should  be  none  the  wiser ;  for  had  he  not 
thrust  the  mother's  sin  at  the  daughter  and  taunted 
her  with  the  shame?  But  she  could  not  tell  that  to 
Ringens,  so  she  ignored  his  advice. 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  139 

"She  is  so  hopeless,  so  desponding,  she  will  need 
all  your  care  and  kindness,"  he  said,  just  before  she 
started  on  her  sad  errand. 

"She  shall  have  it,"  replied  Leila  gravely. 


"  Mother  !  " — "  Leila  !  "  They  had  met  in  one 
fond  embrace.  "Leila,  my  Leila!"  What  tortur- 
ing retribution,  what  wild  remorse  that  name  called 
forth  ! 

' '  Mother,  dear  mother. n 

The  angels  of  mercy  and  forgiveness  were  hover- 
ing around,  therefore  break  not  the  hallowed  spell. 

Hush  1     Hush  1 


140  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

"MY   A  U  N  T'S    MONEY." 

DEATH  had  come — sorrows  and  sickness  were  over 
— the  earthly  pilgrimage  finished.  Whanks'  aunt 
was  dead  at  last. 

But  the  letter  telling  him  the  news,  and  requesting 
his  presence  in  York  to  wind  up  her  affairs  and  prove 
the  will,  did  not  reach  him  until  she  had  been  buried 
some  weeks.  It  had  followed  him  about  to  several 
Continental  towns,  but  it  was  not  until  the  circus  had 
anchored  for  a  time  in  Liverpool  that  the  important 
missive  caught  him  up. 

At  last,  after  much  patient  waiting,  he  had  come 
in  to  his  property,  and  in  future  he  would  be  the 
master  of  his  own  actions. 

He  read  and  re-read  the  letter  from  the  solicitors, 
as  if  afraid  there  was  some  mistake.  Then  he  turned 
the  enclosed  cheque  for  ten  pounds  over  and  over, 
as  if  the  more  readily  to  understand  its  value.  It 
had  been  sent  him  to  meet  his  immediate  expenses 
and  to  defray  his  journey  to  York. 

He  decided  that  he  must  ask  Castelli's  permission 
to  go  at  once,  and  then  he  would  write  to  the  solici- 
tors and  tell  them  he  would  arrive  in  York  the  next 
day. 

But,  unluckily  for  Whanks,  before  he  could  carry 
out  these  practical  arrangements,  his  craving  to  have 
"a  drink  to  his  luck"  overcame  his  discretion,  and 
after  asking  a  few  of  his  "  chums  "  to  join  him,  he 
retired  to  the  "Three  Arms"  public-house,  where 
several  hours  were  passed  in  discussing  his  pros- 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  141 

pects    and  good  fortune,   while  his   glass  had  been 
refilled  many  times. 

At  last,  drunk  and  excited,  he  presented  himself 
before  his  master  at  the  circus. 

Castelli,  who  had  no  idea  of  his  groom's  good  luck, 
lost  his  temper,  so  the  inebriated  servant  and  the 
angry  master  engaged  in  a  quarrel  which  did  credit 
to  neither  of  them. 

Oath  after  oath  fell  from  Castelli's  lips  as  Whanks, 
contrary  to  custom,  answered  him  with  equal 
warmth,  and  when  he  refused  to  leave  his  presence 
before  he  had  told  him  "  what  he  thought  of  him  " 
Castelli's  rage  knew  no  bounds,  and  he  struck  him  a 
heavy  blow.  This  maddened  Whanks,  who  blurted 
out  in  a  thick  voice  some  home  truths  respecting  his 
treatment  of  Leila.  "  Everyone  shall  know  you've 
broken  her  heart,"  he  cried  out  passionately.  "  But 
I've  got  my  aunt's  money  now,  and — "  But  further 
conversation  was  arrested,  for  Castelli  took  Whanks 
by  the  collar  of  his  coat,  and  after  shaking  him 
vigorously  and  telling  him  never  to  show  his  face 
again  at  the  circus,  he  hurled  him  into  the  passage 
leading  to  the  stables. 

Leila  was  standing  in  her  riding-habit,  ready  for  a 
rehearsal,  when  Whanks  was  thus  summarily  dis- 
missed. He  almost  fell  against  her  as  she  was 
leaving  her  dressing-room. 

"What  is  the  matter,  Emilio?"  she  exclaimed, 
looking  at  the  prostrate  groom  and  her  irate  hus- 
band. 

"  Cannot  you  see  for  yourself  that  the  beast  is 
drunk  !  Out  he  goes  this  time,  once  and  for  all." 

"  You  need  not  be  so  rough  even  if  he  is  intox- 
icated," replied  Leila  with  spirit.  "  He  is  kind  and 
good  to  us  when  he  is  sober." 

All  the  indifferent  treatment  she  had  received  from 
her  husband  had  not  crushed  the  loving  heart,  it  was 
just  as  tender  for  those  in  trouble  ;  and  to  anyone 
in  need  of  sympathy  and  protection  she  always 


I42  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

strove  to  give  her  support  and  assistance.  She 
would  speak  out  even  at  the  risk  of  incurring  her 
husband's  terrible  anger.  She  had  suffered  so 
acutely  herself  that  the  pain  of  seeing  others  suffer 
was  in  itself  renewed  agony  ;  and  her  sympathy  for 
Whanks  was  intense.  He  had  been  her  friend  on 
so  many  occasions,  surely  she  must  plead  for  him 
now. 

"How  dare  you  question  my  actions,  Leila?" 
said  Castelli  angrily.  "  He's  dead  drunk  and  needs 
a  good  thrashing  to  bring  him  round.  Come  to  your 
work,  and  leave  me  to  manage  for  myself.  I  don't 
need  your  advice,"  he  added  severely. 

Whanks  in  the  mean  time  had  picked  himself 
up  from  his  lowly  position,  and  leaning  against 
the  wall  for  support,  looked  at  Leila  in  a  helpless 
stupid  fashion,  which  angered  Castelli  more  than 
ever. 

Ignoring  his  remark,  Leila  addressed  Whanks 
kindly. 

' '  Go  home,  there's  a  good  fellow.  I  cannot  talk 
to  you  now.  Go  and  get  some  food  and  sleep  and 
you  will  be  all  right  to-night/'  pleaded  Leila. 

"  You  hold  your  tongue  at  once  !  "  replied  her 
husband.  "  Once  more  let  me  tell  you  I  am  wait- 
ing for  you,"  he  added  impatiently. 

She  went  towards  him  quietly  and  calmly  but  there 
was  a  subdued  defiance  in  her  eyes  and  manner 
which  did  not  escape  her  husband's  notice. 

He  knew  she  was  charing  against  the  restraints  he 
imposed  upon  her,  and  that  her  duties  in  the  ring 
fretted  her  continually,  but  so  long  as  her  defiance 
did  not  openly  betray  itself  he  was  satisfied  ;  for  her 
inward  sufferings  he  cared  little.  Once  or  twice, 
when  they  were  on  the  Continent,  his  attention  had 
been  called  by  Ringens  and  others  to  his  wife's 
delicate  health  ;  her  pale,  care-worn  face,  with  its 
brilliant  hectic  flush,  her  large  eyes  looking  like 
those  of  a  hunted  fawn,  had  drawn  very  honest 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  143 

sympathy  from  those  engaged  at  the  circus.  But 
this  commiseration  had  not  the  slightest  effect  upon 
Castelli.  He  was  considerably  annoyed  that  his  wife 
should  be  under  their  discussion  at  all,  and  he 
frankly  told  them  that  it  was  no  business  of  theirs, 
and  that  his  wife  was  well  enough  and  that  he  did 
not  mean  to  have  her  made  into"  an  invalid ;  perhaps 
they  would  look  after  their  own  wives  and  leave  him 
to  do  the  same. 

They  never  interfered  again.  But  Ringens  and 
Whanks  watched  her  grow  more  fragile  every  day. 
They  saw  the  flush  deepen  upon  the  slightest  exer- 
tion, and  at  times  her  eyes  grew  bright  as  stars  and 
she  would  seem  nervous  and  restless  as  her  time 
came  to  go  into  the  ring. 

Once  in  Brussels,  when  she  seemed  unusually 
tired,  Whanks  had  ventured  to  advise  that  she  should 
rest  a  little,  he  was  so  fond  of  the  young  girl  who 
had  come  among  them,  and  her  husband's  neglect 
and  severity  had  been  a  source  of  great  trouble  to 
the  faithful  servant,  and  Leila,  grateful  for  any  small 
kindness,  returned  his  devotion  ungrudgingly. 

"  No,  I  cannot  rest,  Whanks,"  she  replied,  amused 
at  his  tender  thoughts  for  her  health.  "  Your  master 
would  not  approve  of  that;  he  would  think  I  was 
lazy." 

She  smiled  but  there  was  such  a  sad  look  on  her 
face  as  she  did  so  that  Whanks  felt,  as  he  afterwards 
described  it  to  a  fellow-groom,  "  as  if  he  could  have 
cried  like  a  baby." 

"  The  master  is  as  hard  as  a  brick,  and  terribly 
cruel  at  times,  and  if  I  was  in  your  place  I'd " 

"  Hush,"  interposed  Leila  firmly,  "  you  must  not 
speak  so  ;  he  is  my  husband." 

"  More's  the  pity,  that's  what  I  says,"  replied 
Whanks,  unabashed  at  the  reproof;  "  more's  the 
pity,"  he  repeated. 

There  were  others  who  thought  the  same,  but 
Leila  did  not  know  it.  She  was  unaware  of  all  the 


144  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

kindly  feelings  bestowed  upon  her  by  those  around 
simply  because  she  was  Castelli's  wife  and  the 
mother  of  his  children. 

But  so  it  was. 

The  next  day  when  Castelli  went  down  to  the 
circus,  expecting  to  find  Whanks  as  usual,  for  his 
notice  to  quit  had  so  far  been  a  mere  form,  he  was 
surprised  at  his  non-appearance. 

In  answer  to  his  inquiries,  he  was  told  that 
Whanks  had  come  into  some  money  and  had  started 
or  was  going  to  start  to  York  that  day.  Castelli 
could  hardly  believe  that  the  man  was  gone,  he  had 
been  so  accustomed  to  scold  him  for  his  faults,  to 
use  horrible  oaths,  to  give  him  notice  to  quit  his 
service  and  then  retain  him,  that  he  supposed  nat- 
urally this  occasion  would  not  in  any  way  differ 
from  the  others ;  but  to  his  dismay  he  found  the 
faithful  retainer  gone  at  last.  The  day  wore  on,  but 
still  no  Whanks  appeared,  and  as  the  evening 
approached  he  sent  a  messenger  to  the  man's  apart- 
ments. He  had  gone  away  by  train  that  morning, 
that  was  all  they  knew  about  him.  He  had  told 
them  he  was  not  going  to  the  circus  again  as  business 
called  him  to  York.  This  put  Castelli  to  the  greatest 
inconvenience  in  the  ring,  having  to  find  a  substitute 
at  so  short  a  notice,  and  Leila  passed  a  very  uncom- 
fortable hour  with  her  husband  previous  to  the 
evening  "  show."  He  abused  Whanks  heartily,  and 
used  such  terrible  expletives  that  she  felt  almost 
afraid  to  be  in  his  presence ;  yet  she  dared  not 
interrupt  him  or  suggest  that  he  had  dismissed  the 
man  himself  and  therefore  could  not  blame  him. 
She  only  sat  and  listened,  sighing  now  and  again. 

Whanks,  unconscious  of  all  the  trouble  his  absence 
had  caused  in  the  circus,  had  spent  a  few  very  busy 
hours  in  York.  He  had  seen  the  solicitors  and  was 
satisfied  with  the  interview,  and  as  he  sauntered 
down  to  his  apartments  through  Bootham  Bar,  he 
was  meditating  what  his  best  plans  for  the  future 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  145 

would  be.  Leave  the" circus  profession  he  was  most 
determined.  He  knew  he  had  no  strength  to  with- 
stand the  temptations  of  his  old  surroundings.  He 
would  break  with  them  once  and  for  all  ;  and  when 
he  entered  Gillygate  he  had  made  up  his  mind  that 
his  only  chance  to  get  on  would  be  to  go  away,  as 
soon  as  his  arrangements  were  completed  in  York, 
and  not  to  put  himself  in  the  touch  of  his  old  com- 
rades again. 

He  felt  happier  after  making  this  resolve,  and  it 
was  not  until  he  was  standing  at  the  window  of  his 
sitting-room,  looking  out  on  the  short  garden  backed 
by  the  crumbling  city  walls — for  it  was  not  in  the 
days  of  restoration,  which  enables  us  to  walk  around 
the  city  ramparts — that  his  thoughts  became  centred 
upon  Leila  and  her  children.  In  his  excitement  he 
had  forgotten  that  he  must  part  with  them  also, 
that  giving  up  the  circus  meant  that  Leila  would  be 
left  without  a  friend.  And  then  there  would  be  the 
good-bye  to  be  said,  and  perhaps  he  should  never 
see  her  again.  Why  should  he  not  go  back  to  the 
circus  and  keep  sober,  and  he  could  be  a  friend  still 
to  the  pale,  weary  wife  ?  Then  his  thoughts  rambled 
on  to  his  condition.  The  very  last  time  he  had 
seen  her  had  he  not  disgraced  himself,  and  stood 
before  her  besotted  and  incapable  of  protecting  him- 
self from  Castelli's  wrath  ?  Like  a  hound  she  had 
seen  him  flung  at  her  feet.  No,  he  would  not  go 
back.  He  would  write  to  her  one  last  letter  and  tell 
her  his  plans  and  his  hopes. 

He  called  for  paper  and  ink,  and  sat  down  to  his 
self-imposed  task  as  if  fearful  of  altering  his  decision. 

"  GILLYGATE, 

"  YORK. 

"  DEAR  Miss  LEILA, — It  is  right  that  kindness  should 
never  be  forgotten.  To  remember  it  is  the  fruit  of 
friendship.  Poor  outcast  as  I  am  you  were  never 
too  proud  to  befriend  me,  although  I  took  more  to 

10 


I46  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

drink  than  I  should.  I  trusted  too  much  to  the  beer 
before  I  knew  the  effect  of  the  habit,  and  I  shall  re- 
pent all  the  carousing  until  I  die.  I  hope  you  will 
believe  that,  Miss  Leila — God  forgive  me  for  calling 
you  Miss  Leila.  The  old  proverb  says,  'What  is 
well  begun  is  half  ended.'  I  began  to  call  you  Miss 
Leila  years  ago,  and  somehow  the  old  name  rises 
on  my  lips,  and  I  should  like  to  end  with  it,  so  you 
must  forgive  me.  They  say  everyone  has  two  ways 
of  thinking,  and  I  think  it  would  have  been  best  if 
you  had  been  Miss  Leila  to  the  last.  But  you  think 
differently  I  suppose. 

"  I  am  not  coming  back  again  to  the  circus.  Tell 
my  master  that  the  worm  he  trod  on  has  turned  at 
last — that  the  grain  of  my  patience  has  run  out. 
But  I  am  writing  to  wish  you  good-bye  and  good 
luck,  and  to  tell  you  that  I  have  my  aunt's  money, 
so  I  am  going  away  to  some  other  country — where, 
I  don't  quite  know  yet.  If  I  stay  in  England  all  my 
money  will  soon  be  spent,  and  then  it  will  be  too 
late,  and  all  will  be  done  for.  I  shall  try  and  get 
some  work  in  the  new  place — because  I  could  not 
live  and  do  nothing — and  it's  'better  to  play  a 
small  game  than  stand  out.'  That's  a  motto  my 
poor  aunt  was  fond  of  saying  to  me  years  ago, 
poor  dear. 

"I  have  been  thinking  what  keepsake  I  could 
send  you,  but  on  second  thoughts  I  think  the  master 
might  not  like  me  to  send  you  a  gift,  so  I  shall  send 
you  a  promise  instead,  which  is,  that  for  your  sake 
I  shall  keep  out  of  the  public-house.  That  is  a  keep- 
sake turned  the  wrong  way  about,  but  I  think  it  will 
be  one  that  will  please  you. 

"I  was  going  to  give  a  'foy'  to  some  of  my 
chums  before  I  leave  the  old  country,  but  I  have 
made  up  my  mind  not  to  do  it,  in  case  I  am  a  fool 
again  and  don't  resist  the  drink.  They  may  expect 
me  to  treat  them,  but  when  I  think  of  you,  Miss 
Leila,  I  determine  to  be  steady. 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  147 

"Miss  Leila,  will  you  say  good-bye  to  the  chil- 
dren for  me.  Tell  them  Whanks  sends  his  love,  and 
he  will  never  forget  them.  I  am  a  bit  troubled  about 
the  master's  horses.  I  loved  them  all,  they  all  knew 
me,  and  '  Spanishfly '  would  neigh  every  time  I 
went  to  her  stall  ;  and  now  they  are  left  to  other 
hands.  Perhaps  there  is  no  one  to  stroke  them  and 
soothe  them  after  the  whip,  I  think  they  must  look 
for  me  sometimes  and  wonder  where  I  am.  I  wish 
you  could  tell  them  all  about  it,  and  set  their  hearts 
at  rest.  I  would  have  come  and  seen  them  my- 
self, but  I  couldn't  face  the  farewell,  I'm  such  a 
mortal  coward.  My  aunt  left  me  four  hundred 
pounds.  No  more  news.  So  once  more  I  bid  you 
good-bye,  Miss  Leila, — And  remain  your  devoted 
servant,  WHANKS." 

"P.  S. — God  bless  you,  the  children,  and  the 
horses.  I  never  mean  to  get  drunk  again." 

When  Leila  received  this  characteristic  letter  from 
Whanks  she  was  filled  with  grief  at  the  loss  of  her 
old  friend — for  such  she  had  learnt  to  regard  him. 
As  her  husband's  treatment  of  her  became  worse  she 
had  relied  more  on  the  faithful  servant,  and  he  had 
always  been  specially  kind  to  her  and  devoted  to 
her  children. 

In  the  mother's  heart  regret  at  Whanks'  departure 
was  very  sincere,  but  the  loss  of  him  for  her  little 
ones  touched  her  more  deeply.  Whanks  to  them 
had  been  everything.  What  time  he  had  he  devoted 
to  them  for  little  walks.  How  many  pence  he  had 
spent  to  please  their  childish  fancies,  how  tender 
and  gentle  he  had  been  to  them,  and  often,  when 
Leila  was  heart-broken  and  weary,  he  had  fetched 
the  children  for  a  bit  that  she  might  rest. 

At  the  rehearsals,  too,  he  had,  as  he  expressed  it, 
"  kept  an  eye  on  Miss  Leila  if  the  master  was  in  one 
of  his  tantrums,"  and  it  had  been  his  special  pride  to 


1-4 8  SLATES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

keep  her  mare  well  groomed  and  to  send  her  into 
the  ring  the  smartest  horse  in  the  stables.  And  now 
there  would  be  no  one  to  do  all  these  kindly  offices  for 
her  and  the  children,  no  one  to  whom  they  could  look 
for  uniform  kindness  and  attention.  Somehow  Leila 
had  felt  a  sort  of  safety  and  protection  in  Whanks, 
an  undefined  feeling  that  nothing  very  terrible 
could  happen  to  her  or  the  little  ones  as  long  as  he 
was  near  to  them.  She  could  hardly  realise  all  this 
was  at  an  end,  that  the  old  familiar  face  would  never 
cheer  her  again  with  its  welcome  smile,  that  happi- 
ness was  gone  now,  the  pleasure  past.  The  future 
must  be  faced,  but  it  would  be  more  lonely,  more 
weary  now  he  was  gone. 

There  was  a  void  in  her  life  because  the  true-hearted 
friend  and  servant  was  gone. 

' '  Friend  and  servant. "  The  world  will  sneer  at  the 
affinity.  Let  it  scoff  and  express  doubt  with  ludi- 
crous scorn  that  such  a  thing  can  exist.  It  matters 
not,  for  the  association  lives  despite  contempt  and 
disdain.  That  is  well. 

Whanks  had  been  the  soul  of  loyalty  to  his  mis- 
tress, and  a  very  pattern  true-blue  to  his  master. 
Leila  knew  this,  and  appreciated  him  deeply,  con- 
sequently his  loss  seemed  to  her  most  serious.  But 
her  husband  viewed  the  matter  much  more  cooly, 
and  when  she  expressed  in  strong  terms  her  sorrow 
at  the  man's  departure,  he  replied, — 

"Don't  be  a  fool.  I  can  get  a  groom  before  this 
time  to-morrow  better  than  Whanks  fifty  times  over. 
He  was  a  drunken  beast.  I'm  glad  he's  gone." 

"He  was  so  kind  to  me  and  the  children,"  said 
Leila.  "  I  shall  miss  him  dreadfully.  The  place 
won't  seem  the  same,"  she  added  wearily. 

"Pity  you  did  not  go  with  him  if  that's  how  the 
matter  stands,"  replied  Castelli  with  a  sneer. 

Leila  was  silent,  but  a  flush  of  shame  overspread 
her  face  at  his  despicable  words.  Why  did  he  im- 
pute sinful  thoughts  to  her  when  she  had  remained 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  149 

faithful   and   true    through   all   his   cruelty,  all   his 
harshness,  without  a  murmur  or  wifely  retaliation  ? 

But  his  words  made  another  wound  in  her  heart. 
No  wonder  she  felt  alone  and  grieved  when  another 
friend  was  gone. 

She  never  spoke  to  Castelli  of  Whanks  after  that 
day,  and  she  hushed  the  children  in  his  presence 
when  they  spoke  together  of  "  dear  old  Whankie." 

The  gulf  between  husband  and  wife  was  growing 
deeper  and  wider.  The  bridge  of  unity  and  confi- 
dence had  long  since  been  destroyed. 

It  was  impossible  to  reunite  the  structure. 

A  week  after  Leila  had  received  her  letter  from 
Whanks  a  ship  was  moving  slowly  out  of  the  Mer- 
sey docks  in  Liverpool.  Very  stately  she  looked  as 
she  glided  towards  the  open  sea,  bound  for  foreign 
lands.  Many  of  her  passengers  stood  on  the  deck, 
waving  their  hands  and  handkerchiefs  to  the  loved 
ones  left  behind.  One  man  stood  a  little  apart  from 
the  rest.  He  never  glanced  at  the  group  of  dis- 
tressed friends  on  the  quay.  He  never  heeded  a  young 
girl  by  his  side,  weeping  for  the  mother  left  behind. 
He  only  turned  his  face  seaward  and  cried,  "  God 
bless  Miss  Leila — God  bless  her,"  he  said  solemnly, 
and  something  like  tears  made  their  way  down  his 
rugged  cheeks.  "My  heart  is  with  you  to  the  last, 
Miss  Leila,  to  the  last,  though  you  may  never  know 
it." 

The  Southern  Cross  sped  on  her  way,  carrying  her 
freight  of  gladdened  hearts  and  sorrow-laden  lives — 
some  going  to  those  who  had  waited  patiently  for 
years  for  their  outcoming,  others  had  left  home,  wife, 
and  children  to  seek  fortune  in  a  far-off  country. 

Whanks  had  gone  to  begin  a  new  life,  to  avoid  the 
temptations  he  could  not  resist. 

Lelia  was  left  behind  to  mourn  a  faithful  friend 
gone  forever. 

Such  is  life. 


1 5o  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 
"THE  WAGES  OF  SIN." 

THERE  is  a  tenderness  born  in  the  soul  which  breathes 
out  memories  that  can  never  die — a  sweetness  sown 
at  birth  and  cherished  lovingly  until  hoary  age. 

That  is  a  mother's  love. 

What  a  mystery  lies  in  that  tenderness.  Surely 
there  is  magic  in  the  sound  of  the  golden  strings 
which  strain  the  tune  of  a  mother's  love;  surely  the 
sweet  voice  comes  back,  bringing  with  it  visions  of 
beauty  and  rapture  forever  the  same — like  a  meteor's 
flash  they  brighten  the  darkest  night,  and  light  the 
shadows  when  the  world  is  full  of  woe,  and  hopes 
lie  dead. 

How  divine  a  thing  it  is  ! 

But  when  the  coils  of  sin  wind  themselves  round 
the  bonds  of  love  so  that  its  beauties  are  hidden,  its 
fragrance  gone,  its  exaltation  defiled,  how  terrible  is 
the  curse. 

Leila,  more  or  less,  had  felt  her  mother's  shame 
since  the  day  she  became  Castelli's  wife.  Some 
slight,  some  word  brought  to  her  the  taint  of  a 
mother's  depravity,  and  she  had  constantly  to  bear 
the  burden  of  another's  wrong. 

It  was  nearly  six  months  since  Leila  had  seen  her 
mother  on  the  stage  ot  the  co/e  chantant  in  Paris. 
During  that  time  the  dying  woman  had  wanted  for 
nothing  that  love  and  money  could  procure.  At 
first  she  seemed  to  rally,  and  Leila  began  to  hope 
that  she  would  regain  her  health  as  time  went  on. 
But  how  vain  was  such  a  hope.  The  runaway  wife, 
the  discarded  mistress,  the  broken-hearted  mother 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  151 

was  fast  fading  away,  and  death  was  hovering  near. 

Unknown  to  her  husband,  Leila  had  gladdened 
her  mother's  last  days  on  earth  ;  and  it  was  not 
until  an  act  of  carelessness  on  her  part  betrayed  the 
secret  that  Castelli  had  the  slightest  idea  of  the  clan- 
destine meetings  between  Leila  and  her  mother. 
Inadvertently  she  had  left  a  letter  directed  to  her 
on  the  table  whilst  she  went  into  another  room  to 
dress,  preparatory  to  going  to  the  post-office.  Cas- 
telli returned  somewhat  unexpectedly  from  the  circus 
and  found  the  missive.  An  angry  flush  passed  over 
his  face  as  he  read  the  address,  Mrs.  Gurney,  Scot- 
land Road,  Liverpool. 

"So  her  wretched  mother  has  come  on  the  scene, 
has  she  ?  "  he  murmured,  and  without  the  slightest 
scruple  he  tore  the  letter  open.  He  read  the  few 
loving  lines,  which  sent  a  postal  order  for  rent  and 
food,  and  then,  with  an  imprecation,  he  hastily  put 
it  in  his  pocket. 

Leila  entered  the  room  at  this  moment,  and  seeing 
her  letter  was  gone,  she  divined  the  truth  at  once. 

The  worst  was  at  hand — her  secret  was  out  at 
last,  there  was  no  need  to  confess  it.  Her  letter 
had  told  him  all.  There  were  only  the  consequences 
of  her  deceit  to  bear,  and  the  sooner  the  explanation 
was  over  the  better.  Outwardly  she  was  very  calm, 
but  her  heart  throbbed  loudly,  and  it  was  with  diffi- 
culty she  restrained  her  voice  from  showing  how 
much  she  dreaded  the  ordeal. 

For  a  moment  she  stood  confronting  him,  and  then 
she  spoke. 

"  You  have  taken  a  letter  of  mine  from  the  table  I 
believe,"  she  added  quietly.  "  It  is  a  private  affair 
of  my  own,  please  give  it  to  me." 

She  looked  at  him.  He  stood  silently  before  her, 
pale,  firm,  and  resolute,  like  a  man  who  had  deter- 
mined upon  a  resolution  and  intended  to  carry  it 
out  without  flinching. 

At  last  he  broke  the  terrible  silence. 


1 5  2  SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WD UST. 

"  There  is  nothing  private  from  your  husband.  I 
have  read  your  charming  letter,  it  does  you  credit 
as  a  dutiful  daughter — and  a  lying  wife,"  he  added 
with  a  sneer. 

"  I  can  write  to  my  mother  if  I  choose,"  replied 
Leila  angrily.  "  It  has  nothing  to  do  with  you." 

"Well,  I  intend  to  make  it  a  great  deal  to  do  with 
me  for  the  future,-"  he  replied  firmly.  "But  before 
we  go  on  further  with  this  nice  little  comedy,  may  I 
inquire  how  this  correspondence  came  about  and 
how  long  it  has  been  going  on  ?  " 

Leila  knew  that  to  prevaricate  would  be  useless 
before  so  stern  a  judge — it  would  be  better  to  try 
and  win  his  favour  rather  than  arouse  him  to  further 
anger;  and  so  in  a  few  words  she  described  the 
meeting  in  Paris,  and  Ringens'  kindness  in  calling 
upon  her  mother,  and  the  awful  poverty  to  which 
she  was  reduced.  Eloquently  she  pleaded  for  the 
deserted  mother. 

He  had  listened  attentively  throughout  the  painful 
recital,  and  when  she  paused  he  said  calmly, — 

"Indeed,  and  what  is  all  this  to  do  with  you  ?  You 
and  that  Bible  reading  Ringens  thought  best  to  keep 
me  in  the  dark.  If  your  mother  has  come  to  want,  it 
is  just  what  she  deserves,  and  I  shall  permit  no  fur- 
ther help  to  go  from  this  house.  By-the-bye,  how 
came  she  to  Liverpool  ?  What  other  sneaky  trick 
was  played  upon  me  ?  Speak  out ;  I  will  have 
nothing  but  the  truth." 

"I  asked  Ringens  to  bring  her  over  when  he  left 
our  circus  ;  she  was  here  a  week  before  we  were.  I 
could  not  leave  her  thereto  die,"  pleaded  Leila  with 
much  feeling.  "  Emilio,  she  is  my  mother." 

"  Your  mother — a  fine  mother  !  I  wonder  you  care 
to  own  the  relationship,"  he  answered  with  a  sneer. 
"So  all  this  pretty  arrangement  was  carried  out  for 
you  by  Ringens,  was  it?  Is  he  your  lover,"  he  asked 
coldly,  "  that  you  should  persuade  him  to  deceive 
me  and  to  make  your  life  a  fraud,  a  lie  ? " 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  153 

For  a  moment  Leila  was  aghast  at  his  terrible  ques- 
tion, and  then  she  replied  with  a  voice  trembling  with 
rage, — 

"Do  you  dare  to  impute  such  a  name  to  him  !  He 
was  good,  and  true,  and  kind  ;  he  saved  my  mother, 
and  I  will  thank  him  for  it  till  I  die.  You — you  have 
no  heart.  It  was  worse  than  useless  to  appeal  to  you. 
She  might  have  died  for  all  you  would  have  done,  I 
knew  that,  but  I  will  give  her  all  the  help  I  can,  for  all 
you  may  say,  for  all  you  may  do,"  she  added  passion- 
ately. 

"  You  will  not,"  he  replied  firmly  ;  "and  as  to  im- 
puting such  wickedness  to  you,  I  don't  know  why  I 
should  not.  A  woman  who  lets  another  man,  rather 
than  her  husband,  carry  out  secret  plans  and  plots 
can't  be  over  straight — that's  plain  enough.  You 
can't  make  me  believe  chalk  is  black,  or  that  you  are 
too  white.  Ringens  is  a  church-going  hypocrite,  and 
the  next  time  that  gentleman  comes  across  my  path 
I  shall  have  a  nice  lot  to  say  to  him." 

"You  are  lying — putting  others  down  to  be  meas- 
ured by  your  own  bushel.  It  was  humanity — 
humanity,"  she  repeated  with  force,  "'  which  made 
me  deceive  you  in  order  to  save  my  mother." 

"  Let  those  save  her  who  took  her  from  her  home. 
I  will  not  allowjyoM  to  support  a  woman  of  that  class, 
mother  or  no  mother.  I'm  not  going  to  slave  to  keep 
such  a  woman,  neither  shall  you.  She  has  a  husband 
and  a  protector.  It's  a  pity  one  of  the  gentlemen  can- 
not support  her,"  he  added  with  a  sneer. 

"Are  you  so  very  moral  that  you  can  speak  of  my 
mother  in  those  terms  ?  Are  you  not  one  of  the 
class  that  tempt  women  and  leave  them  when  your 
passion  has  died  ?  I  have  heard  of  you,  Emilio, 
before  to-day.  I  know  your  life  has  not  been  all 
plain  sailing.  Why  condemn  my  mother?  She  is 
what  a  man  has  made  her,"  she  added  sadly. 

"What  you  have  heard  about  me  I  don't  care  the 
least,"  replied  Castelli  calmly.  "  But,  once  and  for 


154 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 


all,  I  forbid  you  sending  letters  and  money  to  your 
mother.  It  shall  not  be  done  again." 

"  It  shall,"  replied  Leila  with  great  determination. 

"  Do  you  intend  to  disobey  me,  Leila  ? "  asked  her 
husband  severely. 

"  In  this  case  most  certainly.  I  do  not  intend  to 
forget  my  duties  as  a  daughter,"  replied  Leila  with 
great  determination.  "  Your  insults  will  not  hurt  me, 
but  to  neglect  my  mother  in  her  extremity  would  be 
wicked  indeed.  I  shall  not  risk  the  responsibility." 

"  I  shall,"  answered  Castelli  firmly  ;  "  and  as  my 
wife  you  shall  obey  my  orders." 

"I  will  not,"  said  Leila  with  all  the  firmness  she 
could  command. 

"Then  I  shall  take  steps  to  make  you.  You  are 
quite  resolved  to  follow  your  own  way,  and  I  am 
just  as  determined  that  you  shall  follow  my  way. 
There  is  no  more  to  be  said." 

Leila's  face  changed  as  her  husband  finished  speak- 
ing. The  eyes  grew  less  fixed  and  determined,  a 
gentler  look  came  over  her.  She  would  plead  now 
for  the  erring  mother  ;  she  would  try  to  melt  the 
merciless  heart  of  her  husband.  She  went  closer  to 
him,  and  putting  up  her  hands,  laid  them  timidly  on 
his  shoulders,  and  spoke  with  great  effort  on  behalf 
of  the  sinning  woman. 

"Emilio,  for  the  sake  of  the  dear  old  days,  for  the 
sake  of  the  love  you  once  bore  me,  won't  you  let  me 
do  this  one  thing  for  my  mother?  It  would  make 
me  so  happy.  Do  listen  to  me  this  once,"  she 
pleaded. 

"I  cannot,"  he  replied  more  quietly  than  he  had 
yet  spoken.  "You've  deceived  me  throughout.  It 
is  useless  to  expect  me  to  meet  you  on  your  own 
terms  now.  My  decision  is  irrevocable.  You 
should  have  told  me  honestly  the  first  time  you  met 
her  in  Paris.  It  is  too  late  to  beg  the  favour  now," 
he  added  decisively. 

"Surely,  surely  it  is  not,"  she  replied  pathetically, 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 


155 


the  tears  welling  to  her  eyes,  her  white,  sad  face 
looking  more  hopeless  than  ever  in  the  intense 
anguish  she  was  suffering. 

He  put  her  away  from  him  forcibly,  but  not 
roughly.  She  looked  up  into  his  face,  but  there  was 
no  sign  of  relenting,  no  tender  smile  to  assure  her  it 
was  all  right.  As  he  did  not  speak,  she  continued, — 

"Will  you  think  it  over  and  not  refuse  me  yet  ? " 

"No,  Leila,  I  shall  be  firm  to  what  I  have  said. 
There  is  no  chance  of  my  relenting — none." 

His  tone  of  positive  refusal  aroused  her  temper  in 
a  moment.  Supplication  turned  to  anger,  her  en- 
treaties gave  place  to  acute  pain,  caused  by  his 
heartless  and  persistent  cruelty. 

"You  can,  be  firm  and  so  shall  I,"  she  replied 
angrily.  "  I  work  hard  enough  for  what  I  earn,  and 
I  shall  spend  it  as  I  choose." 

"Will  you  ?  "  He  smiled  meaningly.  "I  think  I 
can  settle  that  question." 

And  settle  it  he  did.  From  that  day  henceforth  he 
withdrew  from  Leila  the  usual  sum  for  the  house- 
hold expenditure.  All  bills  he  paid  himself ;  he 
knew  exactly  how  much  every  item  cost.  The 
money  they  earned  together  for  their  "show"  he 
kept  towards  the  general  expenses.  At  the  same  time 
he  was  careful  that  his  wife  should  not  actually  want 
for  anything  to  which  he  had  accustomed  her  ;  she 
might  order  necessities  both  in  food  or  dress,  but  he 
would  settle  the  payment.  By  this  means  no  money 
passed  through  her  hands  ;  practically  the  means  of 
assisting  her  mother  were  gone. 

Castelli  had  said  no  more  on  the  subject,  but 
quietly  he  adopted  these  measures,  and  rigidly  en- 
forced them.  His  conduct  gave  Leila  the  greatest 
worry  and  anxiety.  What  could  she  do  in  her 
dilemma  ?  She  dare  not  apply  to  Ringens  for 
money  ;  her  husband  was  obdurate,  there  seemed  no 
mercy,  no  help  at  hand,  and  Leila  began  to  grow 
very  much  paler  and  more  languid. 


156  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

What  little  love  had  remained  for  her  husband 
faded  out  of  her  heart  and  life  during  this  period  of 
intense  suffering.  She  would  have  been  so  grateful 
to  him  if  only  he  would  have  helped  her  to  soothe  the 
last  days  of  her  mother.  They  would  not  be  many  ; 
the  doctor  had  told  her  that  the  disease  was  making 
terrible  headway,  and  Leila  knew  that  was  true. 
Some  days  she  seemed  better  and  brighter,  almost 
herself  again,  then  came  awful  days  of  suffering  for 
the  consumptive  patient. 

One  morning  Leila,  in  spite  of  her  husband's  wishes, 
visited  her  mother  in  Scotland  Road.  She  knew 
money  had  run  out,  and  that  the  invalid  must  be  in 
need  of  actual  necessities.  She  deemed  it  wise  to 
tell  her  mother  at  once  that  she  could  supply  her  no 
longer  with  funds  to  provide  for  her  daily  expenses. 

Mrs.  Gurney  listened  to  every  word  her  daughter 
uttered,  and  then  she  started  Leila  by  exclaiming, — 

' '  Your  husband  is  quite  right.  Why  should  he  help 
to  keep  me  ?  me,  a  profligate  woman,  a  dissolute  crea- 
ture," she  added  excitedly.  "I  will  go  to  those  who 
should  help  me.  I  will  go  once  more  to  my  seducer, 
and  show  him  my  pitiable  condition.  He  cannot 
refuse  me  now,  surely.  I  must  have  food,  and  he 
shall  find  it." 

Leila  begged  her  mother  not  to  appeal  to  the  man 
who  had  been  the  direct  cause  of  all  her  misery  ;  but 
she  held  firmly  to  her  purpose  in  spite  of  her  daugh- 
ter's remonstrances. 

"  Why  not  write  to  my  father  ?  "  asked  Leila  gently, 
She  did  not  like  to  use  the  word  husband.  "Surely 
he  should  know  how  ill  you  are  and  how  great  is 
your  need.  I  have  brought  you  a  little  money,"  she 
added  sadly,  "but  it  is  not  much — two  pounds  in  all. 
I  have  parted  with  the  last  gold  ornaments  I  have,  so 
this  will  be  all  I  can  give  you.  Something  must  be 
done." 

"Something  shall!"  replied  her  mother  wildly. 
"  I've  made  up  my  mind  to  go  to  Southport  and  see 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  157 

Herbert  Clifford — go  I  will,  this  very  day — but  write 
to  my  husband — never,  never  ! "  she  screamed. 
"Are  you  mad  to  propose  such  a  thing?  Ask  him 
for  money,  when  he  would  gloat  over  my  death,  and 
tell  me  how  just  was  my  punishment — never,  no, 
never  !  "  she  added  with  passion. 

Leila  saw  at  once  that  her  mother's  condition  was 
not  such  as  to  warrant  continual  contradiction,  there- 
fore she  decided  to  go  home  and  write  to  her  father  in 
her  mother's  name,  telling  him  of  her  remorse,  and 
begging  his  forgiveness.  This  done,  she  felt  as  if  she 
had  done  all  that  remained  to  her.  If  only  Tom  had 
remained  her  friend  she  would  have  turned  to  him  now 
to  help  their  mother,  and  half  the  burden  and  care 
would  have  been  removed.  But  Leila  had  written 
to  him  after  her  marriage  and  received  no  reply,  and 
she  never  wrote  again.  Poor  Leila,  she  did  not  know 
that  the  vessel  carrying  out  her  letter  had  been  cast 
away  and  all  the  mail  lost.  She  put  his  silence 
down  to  anger  at  her  marriage.  She  was  ignorant 
too,  of  a  pile  of  letters  which  had  come  to  her  at  the 
old  home  to  be  sent  on,  but  which  had  been  given 
as  food  for  the  flames  by  the  unforgiving  father.  So 
to  Tom  she  never  dreamt  of  applying.  He,  like  her 
other  friends,  had  gone  out  of  her  life. 

Bitter,  bitter  were  her  thoughts  of  the  past,  with  all 
its  happy  unshaded  hours,  the  whispered  love,  the 
joys  of  home. 

But  these  delights  were  lost  to  both  for  ever  now. 

Herbert  Clifford  was  lounging  in  his  library,  smok- 
ing and  reading  to  while  away  the  time.  Through 
luck,  not  quite  apart  from  swindling,  he  had  risen 
from  a  comparatively  poor  man  to  a  very  wealthy  one, 
and  with  his  riches  his  character  had  become  more 
loose,  more  dishonourable  than  ever.  His  face  and 
form  had  lost  none  of  their  beauty  and  grace  since 
the  day  he  had  tempted  Alice  Gurney  from  her  home, 
but  he  had  used  his  radiant  eyes,  his  fascinating  face 
to  lead  others  into  the  great  vortex  of  the  lost.  And 


1 5  8  SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WD  UST. 

they  in  turn  were  left  to  their  depths  of  despair  and 
misery,  cursing  the  day  when  the  handsome  Herbert 
Clifford  had  crossed  the  threshold  of  their  lives. 

But  their  griefs  did  not  trouble  him,  unbridled  pas- 
sion knows  no  mercy,  and  morally  he  had  sunk  so 
low  that  to  stamp  a  deeper  dye  on  his  blackened 
heart  would  have  been  impossible.  His  corruption 
and  iniquity  were  complete.  No  hell-hound  could 
boast  of  blacker  sins  or  grosser  vice. 

Was  it  likely,  then,  that  the  dying  woman,  the 
wreck  of  his  sin  should  hope  for  mercy  from  him  in 
her  direst  agony  ? 

The  door  opened,  she  was  announced,  and  Her- 
bert Clifford  saw  before  him  the  woman  he  had  once 
professed  to  love.  There  she  stood  facing  her  de- 
serter, all  the  glow  of  beauty  decayed,  all  the  magic 
charm  gone,  with  nothing  but  despair  to  take  its 
place.  Her  quick,  hurried  breathing  could  be  heard 
in  the  silent  room.  She  put  her  hand  on  the  back  of 
a  chair  for  support,  and  with  one  desperate  impulse 
she  cried, — - 

"  Herbert  Clifford,  have  you  forgotten  me?  You 
must  remember  me  ? " 

She  put  out  her  arms  towards  him,  but  he  drew 
back  and  repulsed  her  roughly,  and  exclaimed  with 
fury,  -  - 

"  How  dare  you  come  here  ?  You  are  nothing  to 
me.  What  do  you  mean  by  coming  to  my  house? 
Are  you  not  ashamed  to  show  your  face?  " 

"  Not  to  you,"  she  replied  wearily.  "To  all  else, 
but  not  to  you.  I  have  dared  to  come  because  I  am 
ill — dying,  and  almost  starving  for  bread.  I  have 
come  to  you  because  you  promised  once  to  care  for 
me  till  death.  You  have  made  me  what  I  am.  You 
have  brought  me  to  guilt  and  misery.  It  is  to  you  I 
come  for  help — can  you  refuse  it?" 

Her  imploring  tone,  her  agony  and  despair  were 
nothing  to  him,  and  he  replied,  with  a  cruel  smile, — 

"  Did  I  promise  to  care  for  you  till   death?     If  I 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 


159 


did  I  was  drunk  when  I  said  it.  If  you  are  ill  and 
dying  it's  nothing  to  me,  and  your  parish  will  give 
you  bread.  You  have  no  right  to  come  to  me  for 
help.  I  am  not  going  to  undertake  to  look  after 
every  woman  who  chooses  to  run  after  me.  You 
left  your  home  for  a  passing  fancy,  and  now  you 
repent,  that  is  no  business  of  mine." 

"  Left  my  home  for  a  passing  fancy  ?  "  she  wailed  ; 
"oh,  Herbert,  Herbert,  I  left  it  for  you,  and  you 
alone.  I  was  vain  in  those  days,  and  you  whispered 
to  me  of  love  and  hopes.  You  bid  me  fly.  You 
roused  my  passions,  and,  maddened,  I  obeyed. 
Apostate,  liar,  coward,  you  mock  me  now,  do  you  ? 
You  would  thrust  me  from  your  presence,  to  die  in 
yonder  street,  and  scoff  at  me  as  you  passed  ?  " 

"  I  daresay  I  should,"  replied  Herbert  Clifford  care- 
lessly as  he  lit  another  cigar.  "You  see,"  he  con- 
tinued, "you  grew  tired  of  your  husband  and  home. 
I,  like  a  fool,  took  you  in,  and  there's  the  end  of  it 
If  you  choose  to  change  your  life,  no  one  is  to  blame 
but  yourself,"  he  added  cruelly. 

"  You  say  that  to  me  when  you  led  me  astray — 
you  who  have  made  my  lif^  a  misery,  a  curse  too 
heavy  to  be  borne  ;  you  who  tempted  me  from  plenty, 
to  cast  me  off  without  enough  to  buy  a  loaf.  Shame, 
shame  !  Herbert  Clifford,  shame  be  on  you  to  the 
grave  !  " 

She  cast  her  eyes  about  wildly  as  she  spoke,  and 
her  breathing  became  more  laboured. 

"Thanks  for  the  good  wishes, "  he  replied  with 
sarcasm.  "You  see  the  devil  was  very  busy  the 
day  I  was  born  ;  and  as  for  the  casting  off  business, 
I  never  asked  you  to  come  with  me.  There's  the 
workhouse  for  such  as  you,"  he  said  with  a  fiendish 
laugh. 

She  sank  down  upon  a  low  couch  as  he  spoke  and 
hid  her  face  with  her  white  hands,  upon  which  the 
wedding  ring  still  glistened.  It  seemed  as  if  she 
wished  to  hide  her  eyes  from  the  hate  and  loathing 


160  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

of  the  man  before  her.  Suddenly  she  arose.  A  sul- 
len, hopeless  wrath  had  come  over  her  face,  as  if  she 
had  remembered  that  love,  honour,  pride,  chastity, 
the  empires  of  a  woman's  world,  were  gone  ;  that 
the  lover,  the  serpent,  for  whom  she  had  sacrificed 
all,  spurned  her  from  him,  that  he  would  not  throw 
her  a  crust,  as  the  beggar  does  to  the  mongrel  by  his 
side. 

But  again  she  made  one  frantic  effort,  one  frenzied 
appeal  to  him  for  mercy.  Trembling  with  passion 
and  excitement,  but  too  weak  to  let  it  be  her  master, 
she  rushed  to  his  side,  and  taking  hold  of  one  of  the 
elegant  jewelled  hands,  pressed  it  passionately  to  her 
lips,  exclaiming, — 

"  Herbert,  look  at  me  !  look  at  me  as  you  used  to 
do !  Once  you  loved  me !  I  love  you  still,  Her- 
bert ! " 

She  screamed.  He  had  wrenched  his  hand  away 
from  her  feeble  grasp  with  a  terrible  oath. 

A  sharp  cry  of  despair  rang  through  the  room  again 
and  again  and  then  she  flung  herself  down  and  in- 
voked his  aid  and  his  love. 

"  Get  away,  you  snivelling  idiot,"  he  shouted, 
with  a  coarse  imprecation,  and  he  put  out  his  foot 
to  kick  her. 

She  grew  deathly  pale  and  gasped  out, — • 

"  Brandy,  give  me  brandy.  I  am  dying — quick — 
quick  !  " 

"You're  drunk  more  likely,"  said  Herbert  Clifford. 
"  You'll  get  no  brandy  here.  Get  up,  I  tell  you,  or 
I'll  make  you." 

A    shriek — a   shuddering  moan — another    shriek. 

"Look,  look!  What  is  this?  she  cried,  terrified, 
holding  up  her  handkerchief,  now  dyed  deeply  with 
crimson  blood. 

She  fell  forward,  and  a  stream  issued  from  her  lips 
which  made  Herbert  Clifford,  selfish  and  hardened 
as  he  was,  utter  a  stifled  groan.  He  rushed  to  the 
bell.  The  affrighted  valet  helped  his  master  to  place 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST.  \  6 1 

the  bleeding  woman  on  the  sofa.  She  tried  to  speak 
as  he  touched  her,  but  the  lamp  of  life  had  burnt 
too  low. 

A  doctor  was  soon  on  the  spot.  She  was  still 
breathing,  and  convulsive  tremors  passed  over  now 
and  then,  but  she  never  spoke.  Language  was  gone 
for  ever,  for  death  was  waiting  to  claim  his  victim. 
Just  before  the  end  she  opened  her  eyes  and  fixed 
them  with  a  horrible  stare  upon  Clifford.  So  terrible 
was  her  look  that  he  turned  away,  awed  and  mute, 
frightened  at  death  in  its  most  awful  form. 

More  glassy  they  grew,  and  she  followed  his  every 
movement  until  at  last  a  look  of  unutterable  agony 
came  into  them.  She  gasped  feebly,  and  one  moan 
came  from  the  pale  lips,  and  then  the  pulse  of  life 
was  dead. 

All  was  over. 

When  the  doctor  pronounced  her  dead,  Herbert 
Clifford  turned  to  him  and  said, — 

"  Now,  I  suppose,  there'll  be*  the  bother  of  an 
inquest?" 

The  doctor  looked  up  at  the  speaker,  recoiling  in 
disgust  at  the  callous  way  in  which,  he  uttered  the 
words,  and  replied, — 

"  Knowing  so  little  of  the  case,  I  cannot  give  any 
certificate." 

"Cannot  it  be  avoided  anyhow  ?  It  will  be  a  most 
infernal  nuisance  for  me.  People  chatter  so,"  said 
Clifford. 

"  Well,  you  must  find  out  who  has  been  attending 
her,  and  get  a  certificate  in  the  ordinary  manner. 
Of  course,  you  know  all  about  the  lady?  " 

"Indeed  I  don't.  I  haven't  seen  her  for  years. 
Cannot  you  take  this  matter  in  hand  for  me  and  com- 
municate with  her  friends?  The  whole  thing  would 
do  me  a  great  deal  of  harm  if  it  became  a  public 
scandal.  A  man  of  my  means,"  he  added  proudly, 
"  is  always  worried  by  a  parcel  of  begging  women, 
but  I  never  had  one  serve  me  this  trick  before." 

ii 


1 62  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

"  I  have  to  find  her  friends  first,"  replied  the  doctor 
gravely,  disbelieving  the  heartless  speech. 

After  her  death  a  letter  from  Leila  to  her  mother 
was  found  in  the  pocket  of  her  dress,  and  then  the 
doctor  sent  a  telegram  informing  Leila  of  her  death. 

Leaving  a  short  note  behind  for  her  husband,  she 
hurried  off  to  Southport  Herbert  Clifford  had  left 
the  house.  There  was  no  one  there  but  the  servants, 
who  sent  for  the  doctor  at  once  upon  her  arrival. 
From  Leila  he  learnt  the  true  state  of  affairs — of  her 
mother's  long  illness  and  the  reason  of  her  visit  to 
Clifford,  with  a  description  of  his  contemptible  con- 
duct. 

Before  she  left  she  was  shown  to  the  room  where 
her  mother  lay  calm  and  silent  in  death.  None  of 
the  passions  of  her  lawless  life  were  visible  on  the 
marble  face.  She  looked  less  worn  and  wan  than  in 
her  lifetime,  and  her  features  had  regained  some  of 
the  traces  of  her  refined  beauty.  Leila  stooped  and 
kissed  her,  the  last  token  of  a  daughter's  love. 
Then  she  withdrew,  shuddering  at  the  thoughts 
which  would  come — of  the  blighted  life,  the  unredeem- 
able remorse  of  years,  and  then  the  awful  death  with 
heaven  so  far  away,  for  the  voices  of  the  angels 
had  not  called  her  home — and  Leila  went  her  way 
troubled  and  maddened  by  the  thought  of  her  sin- 
ning and  dead  mother. 

That  evening  when  Castelli  came  home  she  said 
to  him, — 

"  My  mother  is  dead.  She  lies  in  the  house  of 
the  villain  who  betrayed  her.  With  his  money  he 
will  lay  her  in  the  grave,  for  I  have  none  to  give  so 
that  I  can  spare  her  memory  that  last  degradation. 
Must  the  curse  rest  upon  her  even  in  the  grave  ? 
Will  you  not  help  me  to  give  her  the  last  care  the 
dead  can  receive?  He  must  not,  he  shall  not,"  she 
cried  excitedly,  "  let  his  sullied  gold  buy  her  grave. 
Let  her  sleep  without  a  stone  to  mark  her  resting 
place  if  you  like,  but,  Emilio,  let  me  take  her  from 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  163 

his  charge,  dead  though  she  is — it  will  make  me 
happy  to  feel  I  laid  her  in  the  grave,"  she  cried  ap- 
pealingly. 

But  he  made  her  no  reply. 

Later  a  letter  came  from  Leila's  father  in  response 
to  the  urgent  plea  for  forgiveness  for  the  erring,  sin- 
ful wife.  It  contained  these  words  : — 

"  I  can  offer  no  pardon  for  such  sin  as  yours — you 
will  go  to  your  grave  unforgiven  by  me.'' 

She  was  going  to  her  grave.     And  as  Leila  crushed 
the  heartless  letter  in  her  hand  she  murmured, — 
"  Death  has  been  kindest  after  all." 


1 64  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

IN  THE  RING. 

Six  months  had  passed  since  Leila's  mother  had  been 
laid  in  her  grave.  Six  unhappy  months  for  Leila. 
Her  husband  had  refused  to  bury  her  mother.  He 
had  not  even  permitted  her  to  attend  at  the  grave. 

"  She  has  only  come  to  what  you  might  expect," 
he  told  her  brutally.  "  Surely  you  cannot  pretend 
to  mourn  for  her." 

But  Leila  did  sorrow  for  her  mother  for  all  that. 
Not  that  she  forgot  the  disgrace  brought  on  them  all 
by  her  evil  course  of  life,  but  it  was  that  very  sin 
which  had  aroused  in  Leila  all  her  sympathy,  if  not 
affection.  She  saw  what  cruel  suffering  her  mother's 
wickedness  had  wrought,  how  terrible  was  her  re- 
morse, how  weary  the  days  of  desertion  had  been 
when  spurned  by  her  base  tempter — rejected  by  her 
husband,  deserted  by  all. 

Apart  from  this,  there  was  the  tie  of  motherhood, 
that  no  sin  can  quite  sever.  Through  all  the  chances 
and  changes  of  life  that  undefined  and  indescribable 
clinging  to  a  mother,  whether  she  be  a  sinner  or  a 
saint,  will  exist  for  ever. 

The  arab  of  the  gutter  seeks  his  drunken  mother 
and  cries  to  her  for  bread.  The  disgraced  son  feels 
pity  and  sympathy  for  the  mother  in  the  dock,  for 
is  she  not  a  parent  after  all?  And  some  affectionate 
thoughts  arise  of  her  kindness  long  before  the  awful 
change  took  place  which  made  her  a  drunkard  or  a 
felon. 

In   this   all  the  world   is  a  kin.       It   matters   not 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST.  16  5 

whether  the  child  is  king-,  prince,  peer,  or  beggar, 
the  link  to  motherhood  is  there.  No  sin  on  earth  has 
ever  snapped  it  quite  apart. 

That  would  be  degrading  to  the  child. 

Castelli  could  not  understand  his  wife  bearing  her 
mother  the  least  particle  of  affection.  His  mother 
had  died  when  he  was  quite  a  child,  and  his  recol- 
lections of  her  were  very  vague  and  indistinct,  and 
he  had  no  sympathy  with  Leila.  It  was  not  that  he 
particularly  objected  to  the  immorality  committed 
by  her  mother,  it  was  what  he  considered  the  deceit 
she  had  practised  upon  him.  His  pride  had  suffered. 
His  wife's  want  of  confidence  in  him  had  annoyed 
him  beyond  measure,  and  to  show  his  disapproval 
of  her  conduct  he  declined  to  assist  her  in  any  way 
in  which  her  mother  was  concerned.  Even  death 
found  him  immovable. 

But  with  his  determined  decision  came  a  change 
in  his  wife  which  he  did  not  expect,  and  it  annoyed 
him  more  than  he  chose  to  own. 

Although  not  openly  declaring  her  dislike  to  him, 
she  simply  ignored  him  whenever  she  dared.  She 
rarely  addressed  him  beyond  actual  matters  of  busi- 
ness, or  pleaded  for  her  children  when  he  dealt  them 
a  hasty  blow  for  some  trivial  childish  fault.  Im- 
mutably cold  in  her  demeanour  towards  him,  she 
put  up  with  his  increasing  severity  and  harshness 
without  a  murmur.  Sometimes,  when  he  had  been 
particularly  sarcastic  and  cruel,  she  would  give  him 
a  sad,  tender  look,  as  if  to  mutely  plead  for  his  love 
as  of  old.  But  soon  the  gentleness  would  die  out 
and  a  despairing,  hardened  glance  take  its  place. 
And  so  the  weary  weeks  lagged  on. 

The.  hours  of  rehearsals  at  the  circus  she  dreaded 
the  most.  It  took  what  little  remaining  strength  she 
had  to  carry  her  through  her  work  with  any  show  of 
success,  and  her  husband  permitted  nothing  to  pass 
that  was  inaccurately  or  carelessly  done. 

There  was  no  faithful  Whanks  there   to  brighten 


1 66  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

her  with  a  few  kind  words.  The  groom  who  had 
taken  his  place  had  been  a  smart  young  man  her 
husband  had  picked  up  in  the  country,  but  he  was 
made  of  different  stuff  to  the  patient  Whanks,  and 
at  the  end  of  the  first  month  he  declined  to  serve  so 
austere  a  master,  and  he  went  his  way.  Another 
followed  in  his  footsteps,  an  Italian,  who  did  his  work 
well,  but  who  was  as  passionate  and  severe  as  his 
master.  To  Leila  he  was  coldly  civil,  attending  to 
her  horse  and  his  duties  in  the  ring  with  unfailing 
skill,  but  to  her  personally  he  was  utterly  indifferent, 
and  her  children  never  received  the  smallest  kind- 
ness from  him. 

Once  she  remarked  to  her  husband  upon  his 
churlishness,  and  he  replied, — 

"  He  suits  me  well  enough.  I  don't  want  a  groom 
making  love  to  my  wife.  The  less  he  says  the  bet- 
ter I  like  him.  He  knows  his  place,  and  that  is  more 
than  that  confounded  Whanks  did.  It  was  a  good  day 
when  he  took  his  carcase  out  of  the  '  show.'" 

Leila  flushed  at  his  words.  She  had  been  so  fond 
of  the  faithful,  kind  man  who  had  helped  her  to  bear 
the  burden  of  her  life  just  when  the  weight  of  it  be- 
came apparent.  She  felt  his  loss  acutely,  and  as 
her  relations  with  her  husband  became  more  and 
more  estranged,  she*  longed  to  see  him  once  again. 
Her  health,  too,  was  failing  fast.  At  times  she 
seemed  too  weak  to  hold  in  her  fresh  young  mare, 
and  this  brought  down  the  wrath  of  her  husband.  It 
was  in  vain  that  she  told  him  how  ill  she  felt,  and 
that  it  was  beyond  her  powers  to  accomplish  the 
task. 

He  did  not  believe  in  women's  ailments.  It  was 
only  hysteria,  or  some  crotchet  or  other.  Had  not 
the  doctor  in  Liverpool  told  him  so  when  he  had 
asked  his  opinion  months  ago  ? 

"A  little  passing  weakness,  that  is  all,"  had  been 
the  verdict,  and  Castelli  was  determined  nothing 
more  should  be  made  out  of  it. 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  167 

But  doctors  are  mistaken  sometimes,  even  when 
death  is  very  near  at  hand. 

One  morning  at  a  rehearsal  she  pleaded  illness  as 
an  excuse  for  her  inability  to  follow  his  directions, 
and  Castelli  became  furious.  Her  horse  became 
difficult  to  manage,  and  her  power  to  restrain  him 
was  futile. 

"Rein  her  in,  do  you  hear  me ? "  he  called. 

"I  cannot,  I  really  cannot  hold  her,"  she  replied 
plaintively. 

The  horse  continued  to  snort  impatiently  and  to 
rear  and  plunge  vigorously. 

"  Do  come  and  help  me,  Emilio,"  she  cried  in  ter- 
ror, for  her  continual  and  growing  weakness  had  not 
improved  her  nerves,  and  fear  often  overtook  her 
when  the  horse  she  rode  performed  some  strange 
freaks. 

Once  she  had  laughed  and  enjoyed  the  fun,  but 
now  apprehension  and  dread  had  taken  hold  upon 
her. 

Her  husband  stood  in  the  ring  watching  the  pran- 
cing animal  and  the  affrighted  woman,  but  he  never 
moved  towards  her.  He  was  perfectly  calm  and 
self-possessed,  and  her  fear  did  not  touch  him  in  the 
least.  But  his  face  grew  more  white  and  set;  his 
passion  was  rising  beyond  his  control.  She  looked 
round  with  an  anxious  glance  to  see  if  succour  was 
near,  but  the  circus  was  deserted  except  by  her  hus- 
band's groom.  To  appeal  to  him  would  be  practical- 
ly useless  ;  but  her  alarm  was  so  great  that  as  a  last 
resource  she  would  try  it. 

"  Ticino,"  she  called,  "come  to  'Champion's' 
head  ;  I  cannot  hold  her." 

The  man  looked  towards  his  master  as  if  awaiting 
his  instructions.  Castelli  interpreted  the  look,  and 
answered  curtly, — 

"  Remain  where  you  are.  My  wife  is  quite  capa- 
ble of  managing  the  horse  if  she  chooses." 

The  man  obeyed ;  and  this  treatment  gave  the  fin- 


1 68  SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST. 

ishing  stroke  to  Leila's  nervous  tension.  Her  de- 
spair at  being  alone  with  those  two  merciless  men 
was  too  much  for  her,  ill  and  weak  as  she  was. 
The  reins  dropped  from  her  trembling-  hands,  and 
lay  listlessly  upon  the  horse's  neck.  The  animal, 
finding  itself  free,  was  about  to  rush  to  the  stables, 
when  Castelli,  quick  as  thought,  stopped  its  wild 
career. 

"Let  me  dismount,  please,"  pleaded  Leila;  "I 
am  so  frightened/'  and  the  tears  came  into  her  eyes. 

"Dismount,  indeed!  I'll  teach  you  to  make  a 
fool  of  me  !  "  cried  Castelli,  white  with  rage. 

"  Ticino,  come  here  and  hold  this  horse.  Be 
quick,  do  you  hear  me?  "he  roared,  stamping  his 
foot  impatiently. 

The  man  obeyed,  and  then  Castelli  raised  his  thin 
whip  and  struck  his  wife  sharply  across  her  shoulders 
and  arms.  Again  and  again  the  cruel  cuts  fell  with 
biting  force. 

"Now  then,  my  lady,  we'll  see  who  is  master. 
Once  more,  are  you  going  to  do  as  I  tell  you  ? " 

But  she  never  spoke,  she  only  stifled  a  moan  of 
pain  and  drew  her  breath  in  gasps,  and  became 
white  and  terrified  ;  but  her  lips  were  closed,  no 
sound  came  from  them. 

"Answer  me,  you  fool  ! "  roared  Castelli,  his  pas- 
sion stifling  all  sense  of  decency  or  respect  for  his 
wife.  "Answer,  do  you  hear!"  he  exclaimed,  ex- 
asperated with  her  silence. 

Still  no  words  issued  from  the  quivering  lips,  and 
then  in  his  fury  his  whip  fell  again  upon  her  with 
remorseless  energy. 

She  winced  and  shuddered  under  the  cruel  blows  ; 
the  beating  of  her  heart  could  be  seen  against  her 
habit ;  its  thud  almost  choked  her,  and  a  deadly  cold 
feeling  was  stealing  over  her. 

But  Castelli  was  too  angry  to  note  the  change  in 
his  wife's  face  until  Ticino  called  his  attention  to 
her. 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST.  \  69 

"  Madam  is  fainting,  you'd  best  take  her  from  the 
saddle, "  said  the  man  coolly,  not  evincing  the  slightest 
sympathy  for  the  suffering  woman. 

"Curse  you,  hold  your  tongue  !  "  said  Castelli. 

But  one  glance  at  Leila's  face  told  him  the  man 
was  right,  and  he  lifted  his  wife  from  the  horse,  and 
turning  to  the  groom  said, — 

"lake  the  brute  to  the  stables,  and  bring  a  glass 
of  water  here,  and  look  sharp  about  it" 

Finding  herself  on  the  sawdust,  she  recovered 
somewhat,  and  in  a  feeble  voice  she  cried, 

"How  could  you?  How  could  you  do  that? 
Take  me  home.  The  pain — the  pain  has  made  me 
faint  and  sick.  Do  let  me  go  home,"  she  pleaded. 

He  held  her  firmly  round  the  waist  so  that  she 
should  not  fall ;  but  there  was  no  pity  in  his  face, 
no  anxiety  in  his  voice  as  he  spoke. 

"  It  serves  you  right,"  he  replied,  "  fooling  about 
as  if  you  were  an  idiot.  In  future  you  will  under- 
stand what  is  in  store  for  you." 

A  moan — like  the  cry  of  a  wounded  animal — that 
was  all  her  reply. 

"  Hold  that  infernal  noise,  and  drink  this  water." 

But  her  teeth  were  firmly  set,  and  he  could  not 
get  her  to  take  a  drop. 

"  You  obstinate  devil  !  "  he  cried,  "you  want  an- 
other good  hiding.  Come  here,  Ticino,  and  give 
me  a  hand." 

Together  they  led  her  to  her  dressing-room  and 
placed  her  in  a  chair. 

"When  you  feel  well  enough  to  walk  home  you 
can  let  me  know,"  he  added  with  a  sneer. 

"Don't  leave  me,  Emilio  :  I  can  go  home  now," 
she  said.  "I'd  rather  get  home." 

"I'd  rather  you  stayed  here  for  a  time,"  replied 
Castelli  with  determination. 

And  so  she  sat  on  alone  for  one  weary  hour,  suffer- 
ing acute  pain,  dazed  and  faint. 

At  last,   with   faltering  steps,   she  reached  home. 


I  yo  SLA  FES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST. 

At  the  door  her  two  children  met  her  with  out- 
stretched arms  and  laughing,  happy  faces.  Their 
presence  caused  a  terrible  and  sudden  reaction  to 
set  in  ;  she  burst  into  uncontrolled  fits  of  tears,  then 
she  laughed  and  showed  all  the  signs  of  hysteria. 

Castelli,  his  passion  gone,  brought  her  wine. 

"Don't  come  near  me;  go  away — go  a\vay.  I 
hate  you,  I  loathe  you — I  wish  I  was  dead ! "  she 
panted. 

The  children  slunk  away  terrified. 

"Hold  your  tongue,  do,  Leila,  unless  you  want 
all  the  house  up  here,  and  don't  go  on  in  this  absurd 
childish  manner.  Be  off  and  lie  down  or  you  will 
not  be  able  to  ride  to-night,  and  that  won't  suit  me 
by  a  long  chalk." 

"  Ride  to-night,"  she  repeated  his  words  mechani- 
cally, "I  cannot,  I  cannot.  I  could  not  sit  in  the 
saddle." 

"Oh,  we'll  see  about  that,"  he  replied  severely. 
"I'm  not  going  to  let  you  do  the  invalid  business,  I 
am  determined.  Go  to  your  bed  at  once,  do  you 
hear  me  ?  " 

Afraid  to  disobey,  and  yet  trembling  until  she 
could  hardly  stand,  she  staggered  to  her  feet,  and 
managed  to  drag  her  weary  limbs  to  her  room. 
Degraded,  deprived  of  the  dignity  of  womanhood, 
struck  as  men  strike  dogs,  disgraced  before  a  ser- 
vant— no  wonder  her  heart  was  broken. 

That  night  she  was  made  to  rise  from  her  sick-bed 
and  go  to  the  circus  as  usual. 

The  people  were  waiting.  The  band  struck  up  a 
lively  air,  and  Leila,  side  by  side  with  her  husband, 
entered  the  ring  to  display  her  celebrated  trick  horse, 
but  so  thin  and  wan  was  her  face,  so  wild  were  her 
eyes,  so  great  her  effort  to  keep  her  seat  and  manage 
her  horse,  that  she  drew  the  attention  of  the  whole 
house  to  her  suffering  condition.  Yet  no  one  liked 
to  mark  their  disapprobation  ;  they  were  afraid  to  be 
the  first  to  do  so ;  it  might  be  all  a  mistake.  After 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST,  \  71 

all,  they  supposed  the  woman  knew  best  herself,  and 
so  silence  fell  on  the  sightseers. 

It  was  not  until  Castelli  threw  one  angry  flash  at 
his  wife,  and  a  low  muttered  oath,  which  did  not  es- 
cape the  watchful  eyes  and  ears  of  a  few  who  sat  in 
the  front  row  of  the  stalls,  that  suddenly  a  hiss  rose 
from  a  lady's  lips,  which  was  taken  up  by  one  or 
two  of  the  most  daring  in  the  vast  assembly, 

But  the  applause  broke  forth  with  renewed  force, 
the  hisses  were  lost. 

Humanity  was  crushed  by  the  cowardice  of  the 
people. 

It  is  the  same  to-day. 

Oh  for  humanity  strong  enough,  deep  enough  to 
tread  under  its  feet  the  cravens,  the  poltroons,  the 
timorous  pleasure-goers  who  would  rather  let  suf- 
fering live  than  they  should  speak.  Oh  for  a  hu- 
manity which  dare  plead  for  the  pains  of  girlhood, 
for  the  degradation  of  womanhood.  Away,  away 
with  the  faddist,  away  with  those  who  offer  a  luke- 
warm sympathy  but  dare  not  cry,  "I  will  help  the 
slaves  of  the  sawdust,  I  will  save  those  who  suffer 
for  the  pleasure  of  the  people." 

Away  with  those  who  have  so  far  fouled  the  name 
of  philanthropy  by  standing  aloof  when  their  much 
vaunted  services  were  most  needed. 

Philanthropy  is  one  thing  in  name,  another  in 
action.  The  one  so  easy,  the  other  not  very  pleasant 
And  so  the  agreeable  way  has  been  chosen,  and  the 
emotional  minds  left  in  peace. 

But  the  dawn  is  at  hand,  the  faint  flickering  of  the 
morn  is  growing  nearer,  the  light  will  burst,  the 
night  be  gone  for  ever,  the  brilliant  day  will  break, 
and  truth  shall  bask  in  her  rosy  hues  and  light  the 
path  of  suffering  and  misery. 

Then  it  will  be  well. 

At  last  the  ' '  show  "  was  over  and  the  weary  woman 
had  left  the  ring,  and  the  careless  audience  were  dis- 
cussing her  pale  looks  and  despairing  glances.  But 


1 72  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

the  next  act  soon  took  their  attention.  After  all  it 
was  nothing  to  them. 

Castelli  was  about  to  turn  on  his  wife  with  an 
oath,  for  the  hisses  had  reached  him  as  he  rode,  and 
he  was  annoyed  that  Leila  should  have  brought  such 
a  slight  upon  her  horsemanship. 

But  the  proprietor  of  the  circus  came  up  to  him, 
with  a  look  of  determination  upon  his  face,  and 
said, — 

"  Castelli,  you  must  not  take  your  wife  into  the 
ring  again  at  present.  I  cannot  permit  it.  The  au- 
dience have  begun  to  notice  how  ill  she  is,  and  surely 
you  must  know  she  is  not  fit  to  ride." 

"  She  is  not  so  ill  as  all  that,"  replied  Castelli  with 
anger.  "  It's  temper,  not  illness.  It's  deuced  cool 
to  tell  me  my  wife  is  too  ill  to  perform.  I'm  the 
best  judge  of  that,  I  should  guess,"  he  added  with 
scorn. 

"  I  don't  mind  whether  you  are  capable  of  judging 
or  not  She  cannot  appear  in  the  ring  here.  I  for- 
bid it.  You  had  better  take  her  home  and  fetch  the 
doctor." 

With  these  words  he  walked  off,  and  Castelli,  using 
a  foul  oath,  took  his  wife  home.  But  he  did  not  fetch 
the  doctor,  neither  did  he  remain  by  her  side  to  com- 
fort her  in  her  sickness. 

Left  alone,  she  seemed  almost  stunned  by  all  she 
had  undergone  during  that  terrible  day.  She  seemed 
hardly  capable  of  thought.  But  after  a  great  effort 
she  reached  her  children's  room,  and  kissed  them 
passionately  as  they  slept  Suddenly  some  awful 
truth  seemed  to  strike  home  to  her,  and  she  cried  : 
"  I  am  dying — dying,  and  who  will  care  for  them 
when  I  am  gone?  His  lash  has  fallen  on  me — their 
mother — his  wife.  Some  day  it  will  fall  on  them. 
What  shall  I  do  with  my  children  ?  "  she  cried  with 
pathos. 

Maddened  with  this  thought,  she  never  slept 
throughout  the  long  night,  and  the  morning  found 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST.  173 

her  wearied  to  the  soul.  As  the  day  grew  her  trouble 
seemed  to  rest  upon  her  until  she  could  hardly  bear 
the  slightest  word  spoken  in  her  presence,  and  in  her 
despair  she  moaned, — 

"  My  children,  my  children  !  How  shall  I  save 
my  children  ?  I  must  die  and  leave  them  all  alone. 
What  will  become  of  them  ?  What  shall  I  do  ?  " 

Her  restlessness  grew  worse  as  the  evening  ap- 
proached, and  her  husband  asked  her  with  a  sneer, — • 

"  Are  you  mad,  Leila  ?  " 

"  I  think  so — I  think  I  must  be,"  she  said  slowly, 
a  wavering  and  indecision  being  apparent  in  her 
voice. 

He  smiled  calmly. 

But  she  took  no  heed. 


174  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

MAD    FOR    LOVE. 

THAT  night  he  had  left  her  with  an  oath  upon  his 
lips. 

She  could  not  work  now — she  was  too  weary,  too 
ill. 

The  tender  flower  was  crushed,  shattered,  its  glory 
gone  for  ever. 

She  had  thrown  herself  upon  the  bed,  and  with 
closed  eyes  she  lay,  trying  to  gain  some  rest.  Her 
fair  hair  hung  wildly  about  her  shoulders,  her  arms 
were  thrown  behind  her  head,  and  through  the  thin 
dressing-gown  could  be  seen  the  slim  contour  of  her 
limbs.  All  traces  of  the  plump,  fine-grown  woman 
had  long  since  disappeared. 

She  looked  very  fair  and  fragile  as  she  lay  there 
almost  as  still  as  death. 

At  last,  after  a  restless  struggle,  she  fell  asleep, 
growing  more  white  as  the  moments  sped  on,  with 
a  look  of  unutterable  pain  stealing  over  her  face,  as 
if  animated  by  an  undying  consciousness  of  some 
horrible  thought  which  had  reached  the  inmost  recess 
of  the  mind.  Some  terrible  scene  come  to  disturb 
her  brain  with  acute  suffering  wrung  from  the  fierce 
despair  of  the  days  that  were  past. 

Sometimes  her  white  and  compressed  lips  moved 
as  if  she  were  speaking,  but  the  murmurings,  if  any, 
were  too  low,  too  soft  to  reach  the  human  ear. 

That  was  well,  for  perhaps  her  spirit  was  roaming 
in  memory's  land,  bringing  back  to  her  tortured  heart 
the  remembrance  of  happy  days,  and  far-off  friends 
and  charms,  which  died  all  too  soon. 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  175 

Suddenly  she  awoke  from  her  distressful  slumber, 
and  with  a  strange  glare,  her  eyes  wandered  round 
the  deserted  room,  resting  at  length  upon  a  large 
photograph  of  her  husband.  This  seemed  to  in- 
furiate her,  and  she  sprang  up,  wildly  exclaiming, — 

"  I'll  do  it — I'll  do  it  to-night — now — I've  plenty 
of  courage,  plenty — it  won't  take  long — they  will  just 
scream  a  little — but  it  will  soon  be  over.  Let  me 
see,"  she  said,  "  I  shall  kill  Vanda  first,  she  is  sure 
to  struggle  most — and  then  the  boy.  The  angel  who 
fetches  Vanda  must  wait  for  Adrian  :  he  would  be 
afraid  to  go  without  her — the  way  is  so  very  long, 
the  night  so  dark.  To-day,  sin,  sorrow,  care,  and 
curses,"  she  hissed;  "to-morrow,  music,  light, 
golden  harps,  and  flowers,"  she  cried  with  exultation. 
"  I'll  do  it  now,  at  once — it  must  be  done  before  their 
father  conies  back — now,  now  is  the  time." 

With  slow  and  noiseless  step  she  moved  to  the 
sideboard  and  with  eager  hand  drew  a  knife  from 
the  drawer. 

She  ran  her  fingers  down  the  blue  blade,  making 
a  gash,  and  letting  the  blood  fall  upon  her  gown. 

For  a  moment  she  stood,  awed  and  dejected  at  the 
sight. 

But  her  eyes  did  not  lose  their  glitter — passion  still 
bore  the  sway.  She  flung  her  disordered  tresses  on 
one  side,  marking  them  as  she  did  so  with  a  crimson 
stain. 

She  hurried  to  the  table,  and  clutching  hold  of  one 
of  the  candlesticks  with  impetuous  haste,  she  moved 
to  the  door,  the  bright  steel  of  the  knife  flashing  as 
she  went.  Beautiful,  but  terrible  in  her  frenzy,  she 
crept  along  the  ill-lighted  passage  until  she  reached 
the  room  where  her  hapless  children  slept.  Putting 
the  light  down,  she  fixed  her  eyes  upon  the  bed  where 
the  little  ones  lay.  Gradually  she  moved  towards 
them,  hiding  the  glistening  knife  behind  her  as  she 
went. 

She  saw  them  resting  side  by  side,  with  their  golden 


176  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAIVDUST. 

curls  all  tossed  and  tumbled  in  childhood's  dreamless 
sleep,  their  white  chubby  hands  showing  in  relief 
against  the  brilliant  crimson  coverlid,  their  ringers 
twitching  now  and  then  as  if  to  clasp  some  much 
loved  treasure.  How  peaceful  they  looked  ;  but  she 
only  whispered  hoarsely, — 

"  It's  best — it's  best  it  shall  be  done,"  her  desperate 
purpose  shaking  off  her  fears.  "  It's  best,"  she  al- 
most hissed.  She  took  another  gliding  footstep,  re- 
peating, "Death  is  freedom — escape  from  pain  and 
suffering.  I  must  save  them — I  will,"  she  panted. 

She  drew  so  near  that  the  breath  of  the  sleeping 
boy  was  warm  upon  her  hand  ;  the  colour  deepened 
in  her  cheeks,  her  breath  came  rapidly  as  she  drew 
the  knife  from  the  folds  of  her  long  trailing  gown. 
She  hurriedly  put  back  her  sleeve  from  the  once 
rounded  arm — now  was  the  time — the  gleaming  knife 
was  just  ready  for  its  ghastly  work.  Another  mo- 
ment— another  terrible  moment  and  it  would  be  be- 
smeared with  blood  and  thick  with  gore — the  dreaded 
deed,  with  impetuous  haste,  complete — the  chainless 
spirits  gone — now,  now.  The  knife  just  touched  the 
little  girl.  She  started,  with  a  cry  of  terror  on  her 
lips. 

"Mother,  mother!  Oh,  where  is  mother?"  she 
cried,  half  asleep. 

"Here,  here,"  Leila  whispered  hoarsely.  "Here, 
here,"  she  muttered  frantically,  stepping  back  ap- 
palled, terrified,  awe-struck.  The  voice  of  the  child 
had  stricken  her  to  the  heart,  and  its  thrill  recalled  rea- 
son in  some  mysterious  way — feeling,  love,  memory 
had  returned.  Quivering  in  every  limb,  she  exclaimed 
piteously  :  "  Vanda,  have  I  hurt  you  ?  I  must  have 
done  so,  there  is  blood  on  my  hands — on  my  dress — • 
on  my  hair.  Vanda,  have  I  killed  you  ?  "  she  cried 
out  in  terrible  despair. 

The  child  did  not  speak — she  had  fallen  asleep. 

Leila  stooped  down  until  her  ear  was  close  to  the 
child's  mouth. 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 


177 


"No,  she  is  not  dead.  I  have  not  slain  her.  She 
breathes — she  breathes.  The  knife  is  clean — no 
blood  streams  from  the  blade.  Thank  God  !  thank 
God  !  I  have  not  killed  my  child  ;  but  I'll  go — I  dare 
not  stay  with  them.  I  might  try  again,"  she  moaned. 
Panting  with  fear,  trembling  with  emotion,  shud- 
dering with  frantic  remorse,  she  fled  from  the  room. 
For  a  moment  she  fancied  some  evil  spirit  was  be- 
hind her,  and  not  until  she  was  once  more  alone  did 
she  realise  the  terrible  sin  she  had  contemplated,  and 
then  an  awful  horror  seized  her.  It  seemed  as  if  a 
cloud  had  come  between  her  and  life,  a  something 
which  baffled  description,  something  undefined,  which 
darkened  the  past  and  made  the  future  oblivion.  She 
was  different — she  felt  it — she  knew  it.  She  rose  as  if 
to  shake  the  phantom  from  her,  and  drive  away  the 
encircling  gloom  ;  but  how  strange  things  seemed — 
what  had  happened?  She  put  her  hands  to  her  head 
and  shrieked, — 

'•What  is  it — what  is  it?  Am  I  mad,  or  has  the 
hour  of  my  death  come  at  last?"  she  cried,  seized 
with  sudden  terror.  "I've  tried  to  do  something 
awful — what  can  it  be  ? "  She  closed  her  eyes  and 
sat  motionless,  as  if  trying  to  reflect  what  had  swept 
over  her  life.  Suddenly,  like  a  spell,  the  wondrous 
change  became  apparent  to  her,  and  with  a  cry  of 
agony  she  shrieked  :  "  Heavens,  great  heavens,  what 
a  crime  I  designed — invented  by  the  devil,  restrained 
by  God  it  must  have  been — to  plunge  my  children 
into  heaven — my  little  innocent,  prattling  babies  ! 
My  God  !  my  God  !  " 

Her  head  sank ;  she  was  stupefied  with  dread. 
Gradually  the  shadows  left  her,  the  hovering  between 
certainty  and  uncertainty  was  at  an  end ;  she  knew 
then  what  she  was  about  to  do. 

She  must  go  to  the  children  at  once — perhaps  she 
had  harmed  them — she  would  make  sure  of  their 
safety. 

She  went  back  to  their  room  ;  a  shudder  passed 

12 


1 78  SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST. 

over  her  as  she  entered.  She  hurried  to  the  bedside 
as  if  fearful  of  seeing  some  sign  of  a  terrible  deed. 
But  they  were  sleeping,  serene  and  beautiful.  She 
pressed  one  long,  passionate  kiss  on  each  soft  cheek 
and  murmured, — 

"God  forgive  me  for  my  would-be  crime.  May  He 
show  me  mercy  at  the  last." 

The  anguish  expressed  in  that  prayer  came  from  a 
broken  heart. 

Would  Heaven  deny  forgiveness  ? 

That  night  when  Castelli  returned  home  he  found 
his  wife  dejected,  depressed,  and  almost  too  weak  to 
speak.  The  excitement  she  had  passed  through  had 
made  a  terrible  change  in  her,  and  he  noticed  for  the 
first  time,  with  anxiety,  how  really  ill  she  looked. 

With  more  kindness  in  his  voice  than  usual,  he 
persuaded  her  to  go  to  bed  and  rest,  and  then  she 
was  tempted  to  tell  him  of  the  awful  frenzy  which 
had  come  over  her.  But  her  courage  failed,  and  so 
the  sad  tale  was  never  told. 

That  night  she  sank  into  a  heavy  slumber,  and  a 
glorious  vision  came  to  her. 

Before  her  stood  Tom,  with  a  gladdened  and  tender 
look  in  his  eyes.  She  felt  his  warm  kiss  upon  her 
lips. 

"  Leila,  my  sister,  dearly  beloved  Leila,"  he  cried 
in  ecstasy,  "  we  have  met  at  last,  all  of  us  together. 
See,  the  dark  cloud  has  gone,  and  only  the  silver 
lining  is  left  behind." 

Then  she  saw  a  vapour  of  filmy  silver  floating  on 
the  air,  and  gradually  it  rose  into  space,  leaving  in 
its  place  a  magnificent  and  dazzling  light,  in  which 
she  saw  her  father  clasping  her  mother  to  his  heart 
and  wiping  away  the  care  and  sin  from  her  brow. 
Each  kiss  he  gave  her  left  behind  it  a  glow  of  happi- 
ness, a  rapture,  a  felicity  which  comes  only  from 
those  bright  realms  where  all  the  streams  of  joy  and 
gladness  have  their  source.  She  heard  a  plaintive 
voice  call, — 


SLA  YES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 


179 


"  Give  back  my  children,  let  me  hear  them  say, 
'Mother,  I  forgive  you — I  forgive  you.'  Let  me 
kiss  them  and  touch  them  before  I  die.  Come,  come 
to  me,  my  girl,  my  boy." 

Involuntarily  Leila  felt  herself  drawn  with  Tom 
towards  her  forgiving  father  and  the  repentant  mother 
and  wife. 

As  they  approached,  the  light  from  the  silver  mist 
grew  more  clear,  more  pure  and  transparent.  The 
faces  of  her  father  and  mother  became  intensified  in 
their  beauty,  glorified  with  a  great  glory. 

Her  father  put  out  his  hands  and  drew  them  to 
him,  and  spoke  these  words,  "Wife,  here  are  our 
children.  Children,  here  is  your  mother.  God  bless 
you  all,  now  and  for  ever." 

A  radiant  light  fell  upon  them  as  their  father  pointed 
to  the  mother's  brow,  and  they  saw  written  there  in 
letters  of  silvern  light  the  single  word — FORGIVEN. 

Leila  put  out  her  hands  towards  her  mother  as  if 
to  cling  to  her,  but  a  cloud  began  to  dim  the  glory, 
and  as  it  deepened  she  heard  a  low  still  voice  saying, 
"Leila,  this  is  heaven — heaven  at  last."  Then  the 
light  grew  less  and  there  was  silence — silence  every- 
where. Tom  and  she  were  left  alone.  A  darkness 
enveloped  them,  the  air  became  heavy,  a  lurid  glare 
appeared  in  the  distance,  lighting  deep  arched  caves, 
dark  gloomy  waters,  and  hideous  chasms,  from 
which  pestilential  fumes  rose  in  great  heavy  clouds. 
It  rested  upon  a  mighty  rock  upon  which  stood  a 
man.  His  garments  were  in  shreds,  showing  his 
bones  protruding  through  his  shrunken  skin  ;  his  face 
was  drawn  with  fearful  agony  and  distorted  into  ter- 
rible shapes  ;  from  his  mouth  proceeded  yell  after 
yell,  curse  after  curse.  Above  his  head  were  the 
branches  of  a  bread-fruit  tree,  its  lobed  glossy  leaves 
shining  in  the  hideous  glare ;  its  globular  shaped 
fruit  hung  like  melons  from  every  stem,  then  changed 
in  a  moment  into  loaves  of  bread,  crisp  and  fresh,  and 
the  man's  great  thin,  fleshless,  bony  fingers  were  out- 


l8o  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

stretched  to  grasp  the  food.  His  eyes,  shrunken  in 
their  sockets,  watched  with  maddening  gaze  the  loaves 
coming  and  going.  Sometimes  the  boughs  bent  so 
low  that  he  could  just  touch  them,  then  suddenly 
they  were  raised  far  beyond  his  reach.  Then  he 
would  scream,  "Bread,  bread!  oh,  give  me  bread  ! 
I'm  a-hungered — a-hungered.  Will  no  one  help  me 
to  lull  this  fearful  craving  for  bread?  Give  me  but 
one  morsel,  one  taste.  I  am  famished — famished," 
he  groaned. 

As  he  cried  out  the  trunk  of  the  tree  burst  in  twain, 
and  before  him  came  a  fearful  picture,  all  painted  in 
blood.  He  saw  a  dying  woman  pleading  to  a  hand- 
some man  for  bread — a  cast-off  love  supplicating  for 
the  tempter's  gold  to  save  her  from  hunger  and 
death.  Then  came  a  terrible  voice  from  the  picture, 
saying, — 

"There's  the  workhouse  for  such  as  you.  The 
parish  will  give  you  bread." 

The  picture  faded. 

There  was  nothing  to  be  seen  or  heard  but  the 
wail  of  the  lost  soul  trying  to  reach  the  bread  which 
he  in  his  lifetime  had  refused  to  others.  He  knelt  at 
the  foot  of  the  tree,  gaunt,  famished,  despairing, 
rocking  himself  to  and  fro  in  his  agony  and  wrath. 

But  it  availed  him  nothing. 

Suddenly,  hovering  over  the  tree,  was  an  angel 
form  with  wings  of  azure  tint,  and  a  low,  sweet 
voice  fell  upon  the  crouching,  miserable  sinner,  say- 
ing in  accents  fraught  with  sorrow, — 

"I  am  from  the  God  of  love.  You  have  stolen 
from  Him  women's  hearts.  You  have  sullied  His 
throne  with  sins  too  foul,  too  cursed  to  bear.  You 
have  darkened  homes.  You  have  ruined  the  beloved 
ones  of  the  earth,  the  pride  of  mothers,  the  darlings 
of  many  a  home,  and  now  comes  your  punishment 
— the  retribution  of  vice." 

"  I  see  her,  I  see  her,"  cried  the  man.  "  Take  her 
away.  I  see  her  face  in  every  loaf  of  bread  above 
me — above  me,"  he  gasped. 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  i8l 

"That  can  never  be,"  replied  the  voice.  "The 
face  of  that  woman  shall  be  before  you,  to  horrify 
you  for  ever  and  for  ever,  and  the  bread  you  refused  her 
in  her  need  shall  be  within  your  grasp  to  torment 
you  in  your  terrible  hunger,  but  you  shall  not  taste 
of  it.  So  for  all  eternity. " 

Groans,  yells,  hideous  screams  rent  the  darkness, 
and  then  Leila  awoke.  Too  amazed  to  move  or 
speak,  she  lay  wondering  at  her  dream.  She  had 
seen  Tom,  and  the  unity  of  the  family  completed. 
She  had  seen  swift  justice  fall  with  torturing  hand  on 
Herbert  Clifford,  and  that  gave  her  comfort. 

Was  it,  after  all,  only  a  fanciful,  fantastic  vision, 
devoid  of  reality  and  truth,  just  the  freak  of  a  sleep- 
ing brain  ? 

Who  shall  dare  to  say  "  Yes  "  ? 

Rather,  was  it  not  the  mystery  of  the  drawing  to- 
gether of  kindred  souls,  of  some  great  magnetic  force 
which  bids  space  defiance  and  comes  to  forge  the 
link  that  death  has  snapped  ? 

That  night  Tom  in  his  Transvaal  home  dreamt  of 
Leila.  He  kissed  her  many  times. 

That  night  her  father  dreamt  his  dead  wife  was 
home  again,  forgiven. 

That  night  Herbert  Clifford  had  gone  to  his  last 
home.  The  day  of  grace  was  over. 

"  Dreams,  only  dreams,"  laughs  the  sceptic. 


1 82  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE   GOLDEN    CORD   IS   BROKEN. 

SHE  was  weaker. 

The  end  was  at  hand. 

What  is  that  mystic  knowledge  which  comes  to  the 
human  mind  at  the  time  when  the  sands  of  life  are 
fast  running  out?  that  profound  secret  which  is  far 
removed  from  earthly  comprehension,  and  which 
makes  itself  known  to  the  sufferers  alone,  warning 
them  that  the  days  of  their  pilgrimage  are  nearly 
spent  ? 

Concealed  from  view,  hidden  from  reason,  no  man 
has  yet  found  from  whence  it  has  its  birth.  It 
comes  bringing  certainty  in  its  train,  a  notice  which 
all  must  heed. 

But  why  it  comes,  and  from  \vhat  source  it  has  its 
being,  is  a  mystery  unfathomed  to-day  and  for  ever. 

Leila  had  felt  this  strange  forerunner  of  death 
hanging  over  her,  and  with  it  came  the  stronger  love 
for  earthly  ties,  the  wish  to  see  once  more  those  near 
and  dear  to  her.  A  longing  for  her  father  grew  into 
a  passion.  She  must  see  him  again  before  she  died, 
and  she  determined  to  make  one  last  effort  to  satisfy 
her  craving.  She  wrote  him  a  few  lines — the  words 
in  places  were  indistinct,  and  the  letters  quavering — 
telling  a  sad  tale  of  a  weak  hand  unfit  to  guide  the 
pen. 

When  her  father  received  the  little  missive  he  was 
overcome  with  grief,  and  he  set  off  at  once  to  see 
her. 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  183 

The  years  had  gone  past  slowly,  making  him  feel 
very  solitary  in  his  old  age.  As  he  sat  alone  in  the  long 
evenings,  smoking,  he  would  think  he  had  been  too 
harsh  with  his  sinful  wife,  too  exacting  with  his  girl, 
too  ready  to  part  with  his  young  son,  more  anxious 
to  pass  censure  as  a  judge  than  to  be  the  fond  father, 
the  forgiving  husband. 

Then  he  would  sigh  and  murmur,  "Too  late,  too 
late.  My  day  is  nearly  over." 

Whilst  he  was  hastening  to  her  side,  Leila  had  be- 
come so  much  worse  that  Castelli  had  hurriedly  sent 
for  the  nearest  doctor.  He  came,  and  looked  very 
grave  as  he  sat  by  his  patient.  There  was  no  need 
to  ask  her  questions.  All  hope  was  gone.  He  could 
see  that  by  the  quick,  laboured  breathing,  the  hectic 
flush,  and  the  awful  prostration  which  overtakes  the 
sufferer  before  the  last. 

Castelli  throughout  had  watched  his  face  intently, 
as  if  to  read  his  opinion,  and  directly  they  were 
alone  he  asked  anxiously, — 

"  Is  she  very  ill  ?  I  should  like  to  know  exactly 
what  is  the  matter,  and  what  is  the  remedy." 

He  spoke  nervously  as  if  he  were  ill  at  ease. 

"There  is  no  remedy,"  replied  the  doctor  gravely. 
"  She  is  dying — consumption  of  long  standing.  I 
fear  the  disease  has  been  coming  on  slowly  but  too 
surely  for  a  long  time.  All  human  aid  is  useless.  I 
can  do  nothing  for  her." 

"Dying,"  gasped  Castelli,  too  shocked  at  last  to 
believe  the  doctor's  words. 

"  Yes,  dying,"  replied  the  doctor.  "I  am  afraid 
it  is  a  case  of  hours  now.  She  is  sinking  fast.  I 
will  call  again  this  evening,  but  I  cannot  give  you 
the  slightest  hope." 

He  picked  up  his  hat  and  took  his  leave,  and  Cas- 
telli was  left  alone  to  bear  the  shock  as  best  he 
could.  The  blow  had  fallen,  he  could  not  restore 
her  if  he  would. 

He  was  smitten.     He  cursed  himself  for  his  folly, 


1 84  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

for  his  neglect  and  cruelty  ;   but  that  could  not  stay 
the  hand  of  death. 

"  Good  God?  what  have  I  done  ?  "  he  groaned. 
"  I  have  killed  her,  fool  that  I  am." 

He  recalled  all  the  miseries  she  had  undergone, 
and  the  terrible  day  when  he  had  struck  her.  The 
thought  of  that  deed  maddened  him  almost  to  frenzy. 
His  mental  pain  was  agonising,  and  his  remorse 
terrible. 

When  he  became  calmer  he  went  to  her,  and  going 
up  to  the  bedside,  he  said  with  great  effort, — 

"Leila,  my  darling  Leila,  will  you  kiss  me  once 
again  ?  " 

She  looked  at  him.  Such  a  happy  smile  lit  up  her 
face — one  of  the  old  winsome  smiles  which  he  had 
loved  so  well. 

She  put  out  her  thin  hands  and  drew  his  face  to 
hers  and  kissed  him  many  times. 

"Emilio,"she  cried,  "  Emilio,  you  love  me  now 
as  you  did  in  the  dear  old  days  at  Sandcliffe.  I  was 
so  happy  then,  and  now  the  joy  has  come  again.  I 
am  so  very,  very  glad.  Dying  won't  be  so  hard  now 
that  you  love  me  again." 

"  Don't  talk  of  dying,  Leila.  You  must  get  better, 
and  keep  me  company.  I  cannot  spare  you  yet.  I 
love  you  with  all  my  heart.  Leila,  my  Leila,  I  have 
been  a  brute  to  you — a  vile  brute.  Can  you  forgive 

me  for  all  my  cruelty,  all  the "     But  he  could  say 

no  more,  his  emotion  almost  choked  him. 

"Yes,"  she  said  sadly,  "I  can  forgive  you  all, 
because  you  are  so  kind  now — that  has  made  up  for 
the  past  Once  it  was  hard  to  bear — but  now,  what 
peace.  Love  at  the  beginning— love  at  the  last — 
what  can  make  me  happier  ?  " 

"I  could  have  made  your  life  happier,"  sobbed 
Castelli.  "Oh,  Leila,  Leila,  you  must  not  die — 
only  live,  and  you  shall  never  ride  again,  never.  I 
will  care  for  you  for  ever." 

Years  ago  he  had  promised  to  care  for  her  "for 
ever. " 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  185 

He  forgot  that  promise.  The  day  was  far  spent, 
the  night  was  at  hand,  promises  could  avail  her 
nothing. 

"  Would  you,  Emilio?  "  she  asked  feebly. 

He  could  not  speak,  and  so  she  continued, — 

"That  can  never  be,  Emilio.  My  hours  are 
numbered — you  can  do  nothing  but  love  me  for  a 
little  while  as  you  used  to  do.  Will  you?''  she 
pleaded,  looking  up  at  him  gently. 

"Leila,  Leila,  don'ttalk  like  that,"  cried  the  strong 
man  in  his  distress.  "  I  do  love  you,  Leila  ;  believe 
I  do,"  and  he  kissed  her  passionately. 

She  rested  a  few  moments  before  she  spoke  again. 
Her  breath  was  short,  and  talking  was  becoming 
more  and  more  an  effort. 

"Emilio,  I  want  to  tell  you  something.  You 
won't  be  angry,  will  you  ? ''  she  asked  in  her  old 
tone  of  timidity,  "but  I  have  written  to  ask  my 
father  to  come  and  see  me.  I  don't  expect  he  will 
come,"  she  added  mournfully,  "  but  I  should  like  to 
wish  him  a  last  good-bye.  Will  you  be  kind  to  him 
for  my  sake?  It  is  the  last  favour  I  shall  ever  ask 
you,"  she  pleaded. 

"I  hope' he  may  come,  my  darling.  Don't  be 
afraid  ;  I  will  meet  him  civilly.  I  will  do  anything 
you  ask  me,"  he  added  mournfully. 

He  sat  by  her  side  holding  one  little  parched  hand 
in  his,  raising  it  now  and  again  to  impress  a  kiss 
upon  it. 

She  lay  watching  him,  too  weak  to  say  much 
more,  but  radiant  in  mind — the  early  love  had  re- 
turned, he  smiled  upon  her  as  in  the  old  days,  and 
in  her  joy  she  forgot  all  she  had  endured.  The  pres.- 
ent  was  with  her — the  past  dead. 

Kind  words  were  to  soothe  her  path  to  the  grave. 
His  love  was  to  illumine  the  dark  valley  and  cheer 
her  path  to  the  Strange  Land. 

How  thankful  she  felt. 

That  afternoon  she  slept  peacefully,  hapoy  once 


1 86  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

more  in  her  husband's  love.  Her  breathing  became 
placid,  and  Castelli,  as  he  crept  into  the  apartment 
from  time  to  time,  began  to  hope  she  might  yet 
recover. 

Alas  !  how  soon  Hope  rises  in  the  human  breast. 

Whilst  she  was  resting,  an  old  man  with  snowy 
hair  and  beard  was  shown  into  the  sitting-room, 
where  Castelli  was  bemoaning  a  fate  which  was 
about  to  rob  him  of  his  wife. 

There  was  no  need  to  ask  the  stranger's  name  or 
to  express  surprise  at  his  appearance,  for  Castelli 
knew  it  was  Leila's  father  come  at  last.  He  rose 
and  put  out  his  hand  to  give  the  old  gentleman  a 
welcome,  and  said  quietly, — 

"You  have  come  to  see  your  daughter?  She  will 
be  delighted ;  at  present  she  is  asleep.  You  had 
better  rest  here,  and  have  some  refreshment;  you 
shall  go  to  her  directly  she  awakes." 

Mr.  Gurney  looked  at  the  speaker  as  if  astonished 
at  his  courtesy.  He  had  expected  to  meet  a  vulgar, 
ill-bred  man,  dressed  in  black,  with  a  heavy  gold 
chain,  and  diamonds  in  his  white  shirt  front  and  in 
his  sleeve  links,  with  his  hat  on  one  side,  and  gener- 
ally low  and  depraved. 

He  forgot  the  members  of  a  large  circus  are  not 
showmen  at  a  penny  gaff.  For  a  moment  he  did 
not  reply  ;  he  felt  a  little  restraint  come  over  him 
before  his  outspoken  host,  the  husband  of  his  child. 

At  last  he  said  with  an  effort, — 

"Well,  I  suppose  you  are  my  son-in-law.  I  am 
glad  we  have  met,  sir." 

Castelli  bowed  graciously,  and  then  a  very  awk- 
ward pause  came  in  the  conversation.  The  men 
looked  at  each  other  in  silence,  and  then  Castelli 
said, — 

' '  As  you  will  not  take  any  refreshment  I  will  go 
and  see  if  Leila  is  awake.  I  must  break  the  news 
of  your  visit  very  gently  or  it  might  endanger  her 
life." 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  187 

Castelli  had  been  inwardly  planning  how  he  should 
tell  the  aged  father  of  his  daughter's  serious  illness. 

"Is  she  so  ill  as  that?  "asked  Mr.  Gurney,  rais- 
ing as  he  spoke  a  haggard,  anxious  face  to  Caslelli. 
"I  knew  she  was  ill  by  her  sad  letter  but  I  did  not 
expect  to  find  matters  so  grave.  Is  she  dying? 
Tell  me  the  truth,"  and  his  voice  trembled  painfully. 

"She  is  very  ill,"  said  Castelli  sadly;  "it  is  best 
for  you  to  be  prepared  for  that." 

The  old  man  moaned. 

"  I've  only  found  her  to  lose  her  again.  It's  good- 
bye, is  it — another  good-bye?  " 

"  I  hope  not,''  said  Castelli.  But  his  voice  did  not 
fall  very  hopefully  on  the  eager  ears  strained  to  catch 
the  slightest  gleam  of  promising  news  from  his  lips. 

"God's  will  be  done,"  responded  the  old  man 
with  reverence  ;  "but  it's  very  hard  to  see  her  die. 
My  punishment  is  greater  than  I  can  bear." 

Castelli  winced.  Was  he  not  punished  too,  was 
not  his  penalty  far  greater  ? 

The  father  never  dreamt  of  cruelty  and  neglect,  and 
the  husband  was  silent. 

Had  they  not  both  sinned  grievously  towards  her. 

They  knew  it. 

"  She  is  awake — will  you  see  her?  "  asked  Castelli 
returning. 

Trembling  with  anxiety,  and  filled  with  silent 
dread,  Gurney  entered  the  room  where  his  daughter 
lay  breathing  out  her  life. 

"Father,  dear  father."  cried  the  agitated  voice, 
"dear,  dear  father,  you  have  come  to  see  me." 

But  he  did  not  reply.  He  stood  speechless.  The 
shock  of  seeing  his  daughter  brought  back  the  bitter 
remembrance  of  other  days  in  the  years  which  had 
passed.  Since  they  had  met,  Leila  had  become  a 
living  image  of  her  beautiful  mother,  and  he  recalled 
the  day  when  his  bride  had  come  home  in  all  her 
fresh  young  beauty.  It  seemed  as  if  he  could  hardly 
beai  to  take  his  eyes  from  her  face. 


1 88  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

Castelli  withdrew,  leaving  father  and  daughter  to- 
gether. 

"Leila,  my  daughter,"  cried  the  old  man  in  a 
shaky  voice,  "Lelia. " 

He  locked  her  to  his  breast,  and  for  a  few  minutes 
the  silence  was  only  broken  by  their  sobs,  then  Leila 
spoke. 

"Father,  tell  me  you  have  forgiven  me.  Tell  me 
that  before  I  die." 

In  the  excitement  of  the  moment  he  had  not  no- 
ticed how  ill  she  looked,  and  it  suddenly  struck  him 
like  a  blow  might  have  done. 

"  My  girl,  my  girl,  to  find  you  like  this.  I  have 
come  to  see  you  die." 

A  heavy  sob  prevented  him  from  saying  more  just 
then,  but  Leila  said  hastily, — 

"  Don't  fret,  father,  for  me,  but  tell  me,  do  you 
forgive  me  ? " 

"/forgive  you,  Leila.  It  is  for  you  to  forgive 
me.  I  forgot  my  duty  as  a  father,  and  left  you,  too, 
alone  when  I  should  have  been  your  guide,  your 
comforter.  I  see  it  all  now,  Leila,  when  it  is  too 
late." 

"Don't  say  that,  father  dear.  I  treated  you  very 
badly.  I  was  not  a  good  daughter  to  marry  with- 
out consulting  you,  but  love  blinded  me  to  all 
that." 

"And  you  have  been  happy,  he  has  been  good  to 
you?  tell  me  that,  my  girlie,"  said  her  father  sooth- 
ingly. 

A  flush  had  overspread  her  face  as  'he  spoke. 
How  should  she  answer  that  question  ?  She  must 
save  her  husband's  name,  none  must  know  what  she 
had  gone  through,  and  she  replied  evasively, — 

"  Don't  you  think  he  is  good  and  kind?  There  is 
nothing  he  would  not  buy  me,  nothing  he  would  not 
get  if  it  would  relieve  me  from  pain  and  suffering." 

The  old  man  was  satisfied.  He  did  not  know  that 
such  kindness  had  only  been  shown  to  Leila  just 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  189 

when  all  hope  of  saving  her  had  to  be  abandoned, 
and  that  dark  years  had  been  lived  through  without 
a  murmur. 

"  Father,  bring-  a  chair  and  sit  by  my  side,  and  let 
me  hold  your  hand  in  mine.  Dear  old  daddie,  I 
wish  I  had  loved  you  more,"  she  said,  with  deep 
regret  in  her  voice. 

He  did  as  she  desired,  and  then  they  talked  over 
the  past,  Leila  giving  him  all  the  pleasant  descrip- 
tions of  her  travels  and  the  places  she  had  visited, 
but  most  carefully  avoiding  any  reference  to  her 
mother,  until  at  length  she  was  startled  by  her  father 
exclaiming, — 

"  You  saw  your  mother  before  she  died — your  hus- 
band thinks  you  were  never  well  after  that  Leila, 
where  did  she  die  ?  " 

The  hectic  spots  on  her  cheeks  deepened  as  she 
answered  in  a  low  voice, — 

"  In  the  house  of  Herbert  Clifford." 

He  turned  white,  a  look  of  mute  agony  stole  over 
his  face,  and  then  he  said, — 

' '  She  died  there,  did  she  ?  I'd  rather  she  had  died 
in  the  street — if  only  she  had  been  repentant,"  he 
added  sadly.  "  It  is  terrible  to  think  she  died  in  the 
house  of  her  seducer — terrible  to  me." 

"You  are  mistaken,  father  dear;  she  went  to  see 
him  but  one  hour  before  she  died — she  went  to  ask 
for  a  home,  for  bread,  which  he  refused.  She  did 
not  sin  in  that  Your  letter  came  the  day  she  died. 
Thank  God  she  never  lived  to  see  it." 

He  moaned  two  or  three  times  as  he  listened  to 
all  the  harrowing  details  which  Leila  felt  it  her  duty 
to  tell  him.  When  she  had  finished  speaking  the  ex- 
citement had  exhausted  her  considerably,  and  when 
her  husband  and  the  doctor  entered  the  room  a  few 
moments  later  she  was  lying  with  closed  eyes  and 
righting  for  breath,  her  father  watching  her  as  one 
too  dazed  to  move. 

"Who  has  been  talking  to  the  patient  and  doing 


I90  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

this  mischief?     She  is  much  worse,"  said  the  doctor 
angrily. 

"I  have,"  said  Mr.  Gurney;  "I'm  her  father,  and 
there  has  been  lots  to  say  to  her,  and  the  time  will, 
I  fear,  be  short.  Surely  my  place  is  here?" 

"I  must  request  you  to  step  into  the  other  room 
at  once,"  said  the  doctor  severely,  "  and  you  must 
not  see  her  again  to-day.  Willjyoa  see  she  is  kept 
quiet?"  he  asked,  turning  to  Castelli. 

"Yes,  I  will  watch  her,"  and  then  he  led  the  old 
broken-hearted  father  from  her  room. 

As  the  day  faded  and  the  night  grew  Leila  became 
restless,  and  at  times  her  mind  wandered,  and  Cas- 
telli hardly  left  her  for  a  moment. 
.  It  was  late  the  next  day  before  the  doctor  gave 
permission  for  Mr.  Gurney  to  see  his  daughter,  and 
then  he  strictly  forbade  him  to  worry  her  with  ques- 
tions, and  on  no  account  to  excite  her. 

"It  is  cruel  to  add  to  her  sufferings,"  he  said; 
tl  let  her  have  all  the  peace  we  can  give  her." 

And  so  her  father  crept  into  her  room  softly,  but 
not  too  softly  to  escape  his  daughter's  ear.  She  was 
weaker,  and  her  eyes  were  closed,  but  she  opened 
them  directly  he  entered. 

"Father,"  cried  the  feeble  voice,   "  come  here." 

He  went  up  to  her,  and  then  she  said, 

"  Do  you  think  Tom  has  forgiven  me?  He  has 
never  written  since  I  married.  Do  you  think  he 
loves  me  still?  Has  he  ever  said  anything  about 
me  in  his  letters  to  you  ?  " 

She  was  too  weary  to  say  more. 

"  I  must  tell  you  the  truth,"  replied  the  aged  man, 
tears  running  down  his  furrowed  cheeks.  "Tom 
wrote  to  you  a  great  many  times  ;  I  don't  think  a 
mail  passed  without  bringing  a  letter  for  you.  When 
you  never  replied,  he  asked  me  if  I  had  sent  them  on. 
In  my  anger,  in  my  wish  for  revenge,  I  said  I  had 
done  so.  I  wanted  Tom  to  think  badly  of  you. 
After  that  no  more  letters  came  for  you.  I  had  my 


SLA  FES   OF  THE  SAWDUST.  IQl 

way,  but  the  secret  of  that  sin  has  lain  on  my  soul 
until  at  times  I  felt  I  must  write  and  tell  him  the 
truth.  My  child  !  my  child  !  " 

A  terrible  look  of  despair  and  grief  had  come  over 
Leila's  face  as  her  father  made  his  confession,  but 
she  only  said  quietly, 

"  Will  you  write,  father,  and  tell  him  I  never  had 
his  letters  ?  And  tell  him — tell  him — I  am  a  wife — 
that  I  have  not  sinned — that  I  was  married  in  the 
church.  My  husband  has  my  lines  in  a  desk.  Ask 
him  to  let  you  see  them,  and  then  tell  Tom,  with  my 
last  love,  that  I  have  never  disgraced  him.  Promise 
me,  father,  you  will  do  this  for  me — promise,"  she 
added  faintly. 

"  It  shall  be  done  at  once,"  replied  her  father, 
deeply  moved.  "  I  will  tell  him  the  truth — the  sin 
is  mine." 

"  No  ;  wait  just  a  little  while,"  she  pleaded.  "  Wait 
until  the  end,  and  then  write  and  tell  him  that  I  died 
happily,  believing  in  his  love." 

He  could  not  reply. 

That  afternoon  a  change  came  over  her.  She 
grew  much  weaker,  and  she  felt  her  death  was  fast 
approaching,  so  she  called  her  husband  and  father 
to  her  bedside  and  said,  gently, 

"  Sit  down  close  to  me,  quite  close,  or  I  shall  not 
be  able  to  make  you  hear,  and  I  have  a  few  last 
wishes  to  tell  you  both.  My  hours  are  numbered, 
and  the  welfare  of  my  children  " — she  paused  for 
breath — "is  very  near  my  heart.  Emilio,  dear 
Emilio,  will  you  promise  me  one  thing — only  one  ?" 

She  waited  for  his  reply. 

"  I  will  promise  you  anything,  Leila,  my  darling. 
What  is  it  ?  "  he  asked,  sadly. 

"  Promise  me  that  neither  Vanda  nor  Adrian  shall 
be  apprenticed  to  your  profession — that  they  shall 
never  become  acrobats  or  riders.  I  could  not  rest  in 
my  grave  if  I  thought  they  were  likely  to  fall  into 
cruel  hands — like — like — that  man  Horrox.  Prom- 


192  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

ise,  do  promise,  Emilio,"  she  added  plaintively. 
"Promise  before  I  die." 

Castelli  stood  holding  her  hand.  He  stooped  and 
kissed  her,  and  said  slowly  and  gravely, — 

"My  darling,  I  promise." 

"Thank  you,  oh,  thank  you!"  she  murmured 
gratefully.  "I  have  been  thinking  that  perhaps 
you  would  let  father  have  them  when  you  are  on 
tour.  The  journeys  are  so  long  and  tiring  for  little 
children,  they  would  be  best  at  home.  May  he  have 
them,  Emilio?  " 

"Yes,  Leila,  yes,  your  father  shall  have  them  the 
times  I  am  travelling  on  the  Continent,  but  when 
I  am  at  home  I  should  like  them  with  me.  Will  that 
satisfy  you,  my  darling  ?  " 

"  Yes,  if  father  is  agreeable." 

"That  will  suit  me,"  said  the  old  man  rapidly. 
"  Don't  fret  my  girl ;  the  little  ones  shall  be  looked 
after.  I  won't  forget  them,  trust  me  for  that." 

"They  have  plenty  of  clothes,"  continued  Leila 
feebly,  "and  everything  is  in  order.  When  they 
want  more,  I  think  Ringens's  wife  would  get  them. 
She  has  little  ones  of  her  own  ;  but  you  will  se.e 
what  is  best,  Emilio.  Come  to  me,  both  of  you 
together,  and  take  my  hands  in  yours,  and  kiss  me, 
and  say  once  more  that  you  will  care  for  my  children 
— our  children,"  and  she  looked  lovingly  at  her  hus- 
band. "Promise — promise." 

"We  do,"  said  both  the  men  together. 

"Now  I  shall  die  in  peace,"  she  murmured,  a 
lovely  light  coming  over  her  face — "  at  peace,  for 
they  are  safe.  I  should  like  to  sleep  now.  I  am 
very  tired — so  tired,"  she  said  sadly.  "So — tired," 
she  repeated. 

They  sat  down,  one  on  each  side  of  the  bed,  and 
watched  her  as  she  slept. 

She  had  been  resting  for  some  hours  in  a  trance- 
like  sleep.  Suddenly  she  awoke,  and  turning  to 
Castelli,  she  said  faintly, — 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST. 


r93 


"Fetch  the  children.  I  must  wish  them  good- 
bye. I  am  dying,"  she  gasped. 

"Take  this  first,  my  pet, "and  he  held  a  cup  of 
beef-tea  and  brandy  to  her  lips.  She  sipped  it,  and 
then  said  eagerly, — 

"Fetch  the  children  before  it  is  too  late — and, 
father,  will  you  leave  me  with  them  ?" 

Both  men  hurried  to  do  her  bidding,  and  Castelli 
led  the  children  into  the  room  and  placed  them  on 
the  bed. 

Vanda  gazed  with  large  wondering  eyes  at  her 
mother,  and  a  terrible  fear  came  over  the  childish 
heart,  but  Adrian  began  to  cry.  The  darkened, 
silent  room,  the  white  pinched  face  before  him,  the 
awful  stillness  frightened  the  tiny  child,  and  he 
shrank  from  the  loving  arms  put  out  to  take  him. 

His  cry  awoke  the  greatest  anguish  in  the  mother's 
heart,  for  he  had  been  her  darling. 

"Adrian,  don't  you  know  it's  mother?  Kiss  me, 
my  own  pet." 

The  charmed  voice  acted  like  a  spell.  His  fears 
dispelled.  The  child  fondled  up  to  her,  and  in  an- 
other moment  his  chubby  arms  were  round  her  neck. 
She  kissed  him  frantically.  It  seemed  as  if  she  could 
never  stay  raining  her  love  upon  him.  Her  husband 
stood  by  the  door  watching  the  sad  scene.  Cold 
and  severe  as  he  was  it  touched  him  to  the  heart. 

"  Good-bye,  Adrian — good-bye,  my  boy.  Kiss 
me  again — again — once  more." 

"Are  you  going  away  without  me,  mother?" 
pleaded  the  little  voice.  "Do  take  me  with 
you. " 

"I  cannot.  I  would  if  I  could,  "she  panted.  "Oh, 
my  child,  my  child  !  '' 

Castelli  saw  the  effort  was  getting  too  much  for 
the  dying  woman,  and  he  took  the  child  gently  from 
her. 

Adrian  uttered  a  sharp  cry  of  anguish  as  his  father 
lifted  him  from  the  bed. 

13 


194 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST. 


"Take  him,  Emilio.  He  is  yours  now,  for  I  must 
die. " 

"Mother,  mother,  I  want  mother,"  wailed  the  lit- 
tle one.  "I  will  have  my  mother,"  he  sobbed,  and 
he  put  out  his  arms  towards  her. 

She  uttered  one  faint  moan,  andCastelli,  overcome 
with  grief,  hurried  away,  leaving  Vanda  alone  with 
her  mother.  He  could  not  bear  another  parting 
scene.  He  would  comfort  the  boy  and  the  aged 
father. 

"Vanda,"  said  the  weak  voice,  "  mother  is  going 
away  from  you.  Will  you  promise  to  be  a  good 
girl  and  do  all  father  and  grandfather  tell  you  ?  " 

The  child's  voice  was  choked  with  sobs.  All 
through  her  mother's  farewell  to  her  brother  she  had 
sat  as  if  stupefied,  hardly  understanding  at  first,  but 
she  knew  now  that  it  was  good-bye  to  her  too. 

Poor  little  child ! 

Leila  continued:  "Will  you  take  great  care  of 
my  Adrian  ?  Will  you  always  love  him,  darling, 
because  mother  wants  you  to  do  that  ?  You  are 
nearly  seven  years  old,  Vanda — quite  a  little  woman 
—  so  you  must  promise  me  to  help  Adrian  all  you 
can,  and  never  be  unkind  to  him."  She  paused, 
her  words  came  more  weak,  her  strength  was  fast 
failing. 

The  child  cried  passionately. 

"  Don't  fret,  my  girlie,  but  promise  to  do  what 
mother  asks  you,"  and  Leila  tried  to  draw  the  trem- 
bling, sobbing  child  closer  to  her. 

"  I  will,  mammy  dear.  I  will  always  love  Adrian 
best.  I  will  kiss  him  like  you  do,  and  he  shall  have 
all  my  toys,"  said  the  child,  sadly. 

A  wan  smile  passed  over  Leila's  face,  and  she 
stroked  the  child's  golden  curls  lovingly  and  said — 

"  That's  a  dear  good  child.  Remember,  you  are 
to  be  his  little  mother.  Never  forget  your  last 
promise  to  me,  Vanda  darling — come  closer  and 
kiss  me." 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAW-DUST.  195 

The  child  laid  her  little  soft  cheeks  against  her 
mother's  moistening  face  and  kissed  her  many: 
times. 

"Good-bye,  darling,  good-bye.  Be  a  mother  to 

my  boy,  and  don't  for "  She  paused,  her  head  fell 

on  the  pillow.  She  moaned  once  or  twice,  and  then 
the  child,  frightened,  scrambled  off  the  bed,  calling 
as  she  went, — 

"Mother  is  dead!  Mother  is  dead!  Oh,  do 
come  !  " 

Castelli  had  heard  his  child's  cry  of  fear,  and  he 
rushed  to  the  room,  followed  by  the  trembling  father, 
and  then  Vanda  took  Adrian  on  her  lap,  and  they 
both  crouched  down  in  the  corner  of  the  sitting-room 
and  sobbed  together. 

They  had  loved  her  very,  very  dearly. 

She  was  not  dead — she  had  fainted.  The  last  sad 
farewells  to  her  beloved  children  had  overcome  her. 
The  pain  had  been  so  acute  that  it  had  almost  sapped 
her  life. 

Her  father  and  her  sorrowing  husband  stood  watch- 
ing the  prostrate  form.  They  both  knew  the  end 
was  at  hand — the  presence  of  death  was  making 
itself  felt. 

They  bathed  her  forehead  and  raised  her  gently 
to  ease  the  struggling  breath,  and  Castelli  put  his 
strong  arms  around  her.  Her  head  fell  heavily 
upon  his  shoulder.  She  opened  her  eyes  and  smiled 
upon  them  and  murmured, 

"Good-bye,  father;  give — Tom — my — message," 
and  then  she  looked  up  at  her  husband  and  spoke. 
He  had  to  stoop  down  to  hear  her  last  words,  for 
they  were  too  feeble  now  to  be  caught  readily. 

"  Emilio,  tell  me  once  more  you  love  me — tell 
me " 

Her  voice  grew  silent.  Her  breath  came  faintly. 
She  never  heard  his  passionate  reply. 

It  was  too  late. 

There  was  a  rustling  as  of  silvern  wings,  a  rush 
as  of  angels'  feet. 


196  SLAVES   OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

Neither  heard  nor  seen — yet  present. 

The  breath  of  Deity  was  there,  showing  a  golden 
path  from  earth  to  heaven,  and  an  angel  stood  on 
either  side. 

But  human  eyes  were  blind  ;  they  could  not  see 
the  radiance — the  glory  was  not  for  them.  Peace 
shed  forth  its  hallowing  light,  and  rested  on  her 
alone. 

She  was  dead. 

A  groan  of  despair  and  remorse  from  the  strong 
men — husband  and  father — violent  sobs  from  the 
old  man  were  the  only  sounds  which  broke  the 
silence  in  the  chamber  of  death. 

Then  they  went  to  her  children. 

A  few  hours  later  white  roses  were  strewn  over 
the  still,  cold  form. 

Had  she  not  loved  them  in  those  days  at  Sand- 
cliffe  ?  Had  she  not  given  them  to  him  as  a  token 
of  her  love  long  ago  ? 

He  would  give  her  his  last  love  gift,  and  that 
should  be  roses — white  roses. 


SLAVES   OF  THE  SAWDUST.  1 97 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

SHADOWS   AND   DUST. 

SHE  had  been  dead  two  days. 

There  was  a  terrible  blank  in  the  home. 

Her  father  had  left  the  house  and  taken  rooms  in 
the  town,  where  he  intended  to  remain  until  after 
the  funeral.  Castelli  had  begged  him  to  stay  at  his 
lodgings,  but  he  could  not  rest  in  the  same  place 
with  his  dead  daughter.  He  begged,  however,  for 
the  children  to  keep  him  company. 

"  I  shall  be  so  lonely  now  she  is  gone,"  he  said 
sadly. 

"  You  can  take  Vanda,  but  I  must  keep  my  boy 
with  me.  He  was  her  pet ;  I  cannot  part  with  him 
even  for  a  few  days." 

So  Vanda  went  with  her  grandfather,  and  the  land- 
lady good-naturedly  promised  "  to  see  after  the  little 
dear  ; "  and  his  days  were  less  long  and  dreary  be- 
cause the  child  was  with  him.  He  heard  from  her 
lips  how  good  "mother  had  been"  how  she  had 
taught  them  to  pray  every  night  and  morning,  and 
to  bless  grandfather  and  grandmother  and  Uncle 
Tom. 

The  evening  before  the  funeral  he  sat  nursing  her. 
To  him  it  was  a  great  pleasure  to  watch  her,  she  was 
so  like  her  dead  mother.  Even  her  voice  brought 
back  to  him  his  irreparable  loss,  and  he  loved  to 
hear  her  talk  of  his  daughter,  and  as  he  fondled  her 
he  said, — 

"Tell  grandfather  something  more  about  mother." 

The  child  looked  up  at  his  face  and  replied-, — 


I98  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

"You  didn't  love  mother  much,  did  you  ?  because 
once  she  did  say,  '  Vanda,  I  wish  grandpapa  would 
come  and  see  us,  but  he  does  not  love  us  well 
enough.'  Don't  you,  grandad  ?  " 

Oh,  what  remorse  her  words  brought  to  his  an- 
guished heart  ! 

"Of  course  I  love  you,  Vanda  darling,"  he  added 
sorrowfully. 

"Then  why  didn't  you  come  and  see  mammy 
when  she  was  in  trouble  and  so  sick?"  the  child 
persisted. 

"She  had  no  trouble,  darling.  She  told  me  so. 
Father  was  good  and  kind  to  mother,  and  I  am  sure 
he  is  to  you." 

"  Father  wasn't,"  replied  the  child.  '*  He  used  to 
make  mammy  cry  often,  and  he  beats  me  and  Adrian, 
and  once,  when  grandma  was  dying,  mammy  asked 
father  for  money  to  buy  her  bread,  then  he  used 
wicked  words  and  mother  did  cry.  They  forgot  I 
was  in  the  room." 

Charles  Gurney  was  horrified.  His  eyes  were 
opened  to  the  true  character  of  the  man  whom  his 
daughter  had  wedded.  She  had  not  been  so  happy 
after  all,  but  the  truth  lay  hidden  in  the  shroud,  and 
it  could  never  be  unfolded  ;  but  to  test  the  child's 
words  he  said  gravely, 

"  Little  girls  must  always  tell  the  truth.  I  don't 
think  mother  cried  much,  did  she  ?" 

"I  have  told  the  truth.  Mammy  did  cry  very, 
very  often,  and  once,  just  before  she  was  ill.  I  was 
in  the  room  when  mammy  told  daddie  she  could 
not  ride  'cause  she  was  so  tired,  and  daddie  did,  did 
say  he  would  give  her  another  beating,  if  she  did 
not — and  I  know  he  beat  her  hard  once,  'cause  I  saw 
the  marks  when  she  look  her  habit  off — and  mammy 
did  go  and  ride,  and  when  she  came  home  she  went 
to  bed,  and  the  next  day  the  doctor  came,  and  he 
said,  '  Now,  little  girl,  will  you  be  nurse  ? '  and  I 
said,  '  My  name  isn't  little  girl,  it's  Vanda ' ;  and  now 


SLA  YES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 


199 


mammy  is  dead.  How  long  will  she  be  gone? 
When  shall  1  see  her  again  ?  '' 

"Some  day,  Vanda,  if  you  grow  up  good  enough," 
replied  the  old  man  sadly. 

"But  daddie  won't  see  her  again,  will  he?  "she 
asked  with  joy,  "'cause  mother  said  she  should  be 
glad  to  die  if  it  wasn't  for  us,  then  daddie  couldn't 
go  on  at  her.  I  suppose  she  is  too  far  off  now  to 
hear  him  even  if  he  shouts,  isn't  she,  grandad  ?  " 

"  She  is  in  heaven,"  he  replied  gravely,  "where 
there  is  no  work,  no  sorrow,  no  tears — all  happiness, 
Vanda." 

"  No  circuses?  "  asked  the  child. 

"No,  Vanda.     God  is  there,  and  all  the  angels." 

"  Is  mother  an  angel?"  said  the  little  child  with 
curiosity. 

"  Yes,  darling." 

The  child  pondered  for  a  moment,  and  then,  she 
asked, — 

"And  has  she  wings  like  a  robin,  and  can  she 
sing  and  fly  about  ?  " 

"No  one  can  tell  you  that,  Vanda  ;  but  if  you  are 
a  good  girl  you  will  go  and  see  some  day." 

"And  Adrian  too  ?  "  said  the  child,  not  forgetting 
her  promise.  "I  couldn't  leave  him  behind." 

"  Then  you  must  teach  him  to  be  good." 

"Yes,  mammy  told  me  that.  How  do  you  make 
a  boy  good ?  By  giving  him  sweets  and  things?" 
asked  Vanda  innocently. 

"By  being  good  yourself.  Whatever  you  do  he 
will  do,  and  if  you  vex  your  daddie  then  Adrian  will 
do  the  same." 

The  child  grew  grave,  and  then  she  said, — 

"But  daddie  isn't  good.  Mammy  used  to  say 
hush,  hush,  when  he  would  say  naughty  words,  and 
once  when  she  said  that  he  told  her  to  be  damned." 

"Be  quiet,  Vanda,"  said  the  old  man,  terribly 
vexed  and  horrified.  "  WThat  would  mother  say  if 
she  could  hear  you  ? " 


20O  SLATES   OF  THE   SAWDUST. 

"But  she  can't,"  replied  the  child,  quickly,  "be- 
cause she  lias  gone  away  ;  but  I  won't  say  it  again — 
no,  I  really  won't,"  she  sobbed,  as  if  the  sudden  rec- 
ollection of  her  mother's  death  was  too  much  for 
the  tender  heart  to  bear. 

He  kissed  the  child  gently,  and  something  like 
tears  rose  in  his  eyes. 

He  knew  now  the  sad  truth  which  Leila  had 
hidden  so  skilfully,  and  his  mind  was  full  of  con- 
tempt and  loathing  for  the  man  who  called  himself 
husband,  the  man  who  had  led  him  to  believe  that 
his  daughter's  life  had  been  one  of  happiness  and 
mutual  affection. 

At  first  he  was  strongly  tempted  to  go  straight  to 
Castelli  and  charge  him  with  cruelty  and  neglect, 
and  learn  if  he  could  whether  there  was  any  truth  in 
the  childish  statements. 

Had  they  come  from  older  lips' he  would  have 
doubted  the  accuracy. 

But  little  children  are  all  truth,  until  the  world 
teaches  them  the  ready  lie,  and  then  the  petals  of 
the  lily  are  injured — then  ruined  for  ever. 

He  felt  sure  Vanda  had  spoken  the  truth,  yet  he 
decided  to  be  silent.  He  was  convinced  that  Leila 
would  have  confided  her  sad  secret  to  him  had  she 
wished  him  to  be  aware  of  the  misery  of  her  married 
life. 

But  she  had  whispered  no  such  words. 

Neither  would  he. 

So  impressed  was  he  with  the  child's  story  that  he 
mentally  resolved  to  keep  the  little  ones  with  him  as 
much  as  possible,  and  to  save  them  from  all  unnec- 
essary pain  and  trouble.  At  the  same  time  he  was 
determined  to  avoid  Castelli,  and  in  future  to  be 
polite  and  nothing  more. 

He  was  sick  at  heart. 

The  last  sad  rite  was  over.  The  circus  rider  was 
left  alone  in  a  silent  grave  in  a  great  bare  cemetery, 
one  amongst  thousands.  The  earth  had  fallen  with 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST.  2OI 

a  thud  upon  the  coffin,  crushing  the  white  roses 
which  lay  upon  the  top,  and  then  the  mourners 
turned  away  and  went  back  to  the  desolate  home. 

In  the  country  the  autumn  day  had  been  glorious. 
The  voice  of  the  ring-dove  had  broken  the  stillness 
of  the  woods  with  its  gentle  "coo  coo."  The  fields 
were  waving  heavily  with  coming  corn,  amongst 
which  the  poppies  grew  apace.  Along  the  hedges 
the  berries  were  crimsoning,  and  the  lanes  were 
strewn  with  fallen  leaves,  all  ruddy  and  brown  they 
lay,  and  the  robins  warbled  forth  the  first  carol  of  the 
winter. 

Nature  was  so  happy. 

But  in  the  town  there  was  only  the  heat  and  dust, 
the  rattle  of  traffic,  the  endless  passing  to  and  fro  of 
pedestrians,  the  ceaseless  flow  of  life. 

The  pulse  of  the  great  town  never  grew  faint. 
And  Leila  lay  dead  amongst  the  living. 

When  all  was  over,  Charles  Gurney  bade  farewell 
to  Castelli,  asking  if  he  might  return  for  the  children 
in  a  month. 

To  this  their  father  consented.  He  had  no  wish 
to  take  them  with  him  to  Vienna  ;  besides,  his 
promises  to  his  dead  wife  were  as  fresh  as  the  sods 
upon  her  grave.  They  should  go  to  their  grand- 
father, and  this  being  amicably  settled,  Mr.  Gurney 
prepared  to  return  to  his  home.  There  was  much  to 
do  before  the  arrival  of  the  little  folks  in  his  country 
cottage,  and  he  must  see  his  solicitor  and  alter  his 
will  in  favour  of  the  motherless  children. 

But  first  of  all  there  was  a  letter  to  be  written  to 
Tom,  that  must  be  done. 

He  was  full  of  new  desires,  and  the  sooner  he 
began  to  put  them  into  practice  the  happier  he  would 
feel. 

Alas  for  earthly  hopes  ! 

Destiny,  which  overtakes  all,  stepped  in,  and 
brought  with  it  inevitable  doom,  which  must  come 
sooner  or  later  to  end  the  lives  of  all  mankind. 


202  SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST. 

Does  not  Clotho  for  ever  wield  the  distaff,  and 
Atropos  spin  the  threads  of  man's  life,  and  Lachesis 
divide  it  just  when  least  expected  and  apparently 
most  needed? 

These  three  deities  hold  the  world,  and  man  must 
die  when  they  will — mercy  there  is  none.  So  say 
some. 

They  had  destined  that  Charles  Gurney  should 
die. 

Travelling1  from  Liverpool  to  London,  an  accident 
occurred  to  the  train  ;  it  ran  into  another  which  was 
at  a  standstill.  Luckily  for  the  other  passengers  the 
train  was  proceeding  at  slow  speed  or  the  results 
would  have  been  disastrous.  As  it  was,  Charles 
Gurney  was  travelling  in  a  third-class  carriage,  close 
to  the  engine,  thus  he  received  the  full  force  of  the 
shock,  which  pitched  him  against  the  opposite  seat 
He  was  the  only  occupant  of  the  carriage,  and  when 
the  train  came  to  a  standstill  he  was  found  to  be 
dead.  His  neck  had  been  broken. 

They  took  him  on  to  the  next  station,  and  thence 
conveyed  him  to  a  room  at  the  inn  to  await  the 
inquest. 

But  who  was  he  ?  That  puzzled  the  people,  for 
no  papers  or  memoranda  were  found  on  his  person, 
and  his  identification  seemed  hopeless. 

But  Castelli  had  read  of  the  accident  in  the  daily 
papers,  and  he  went  and  identified  the  body,  mak- 
ing at  the  same  time  all  the  arrangements  for  the 
funeral. 

He  had  refused  to  bury  her  mother,  but  for  the 
sake  of  the  wife  whose  memory  was  so  fresh  in  his 
mind  he  would  pay  this  last  tribute  of  respect  to  her 
father. 

She  had  not  been  dead  long  enough  to  be  for- 
gotten. 

That  was  to  come. 

Charles  Gurney  was  the  only  one  who  met  his 
death  in  the  railway  disaster,  the  only  one  of  those 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  203 

travelling  to  meet  such  an  awful  end— the  one  man, 
who  had  the  future  welfare  of  two  innocent  children 
in  his  hands. 

Why  should  he  have  been  chosen  and  others 
left? 

Surely  there  is  a  fate,  after  all,  which  guides  the 
footsteps  of  life. 

Who  can  doubt  it? 

We  may  disbelieve,  we  may  scoff,  mock,  and  jeer 
at  those  who  put  their  faith  in  destiny.  But  contempt 
must  fall  when  truth  stands  out  so  clearly. 

That  must  always  be. 

Leila's  dream  had  come  to  pass.  Father,  mother, 
and  child  were  home  at  last. 

They  were  waiting  for  Tom  to  share  their  bliss. 

But  the  hour  of  reunion  was  not  yet 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

TOM   TRIES    HIS    LUCK. 

"YES,  sir,  I  shall  try  my  luck  with  the  rest,"  said 
Tom  to  Mr.  Bates  one  morning-,  intimating  his  inten- 
tion of  quitting  the  store  for  the  diamond  fields. 

"Well,  you  were  getting  on  all  right  here.  It 
seems  to  me  as  if  this  boom  at  the  De  Beers  mine 
has  turned  everyone's  head.  You  are  smitten,  too, 
and  throw  up  an  appointment  for  an  uncertainty. 
I  don't  think  it  will  be  a  good  thing  for  all.  Some 
will  lose  ;  everybody  cannot  make  a  fortune  out  of 
the  diamonds,"  said  Mr.  Bates  with  caution. 

"I  mean  to  try,"  persisted  Tom.  "I  mean  to  do 
some  business  for  myself  if  I  can.  I  shall  go  up  to 
Colesberg  Kopje  and  see  what  is  going." 

"You'll  find  things  in  a  terribly  rough  condition. 
I  know  food  will  be  a  pretty  stiff  item.  You'll  soon 
spend  all  you've  saved.  You'd  better  stay  where  you 
are. " 

But  Tom  shook  his  head  and  replied, — 

"No,  I've  made  up  my  mind  to  purchase  a  tent 
waggon  and  an  outfit  and  go  to  the  place.  I  might 
be  successful.  Somebody  must.  Why  not  I?" 

Mr.  Bates  made  no  reply.  He  saw  that  Tom 
would  never  settle  down  again  to  life  at  the  store 
and  that  all  he  might  say  would  be  in  vain.  At  the 
same  time  he  was  honestly  vexed  that  Tom  should 
wish  to  leave  him  for  what  he  considered  was  a  rash 
undertaking.  He  had  grown  much  attached  to  him, 
and  a  strong  friendship  seemed  to  be  established  be- 
tween the  two  men.  Tom  had  done  his  work  well. 


SLAVES   OF  THE  SAWDUST.  2O5 

There  had  been  no  scamping  of  duties,  however 
hard,  and  Mr.  Bates  had  no  fault  to  find  with  his 
assistant,  and  his  going  away  was  a  source  of  great 
distress  to  him.  However,  he  was  of  far  too  gener- 
ous a  nature  to  use  any  undue  influence  over  his 
comrade  ;  and  so  Tom  went  his  way,  and  left  the 
roadside  store  which,  if  lonely,  had  at  any  rate  shel- 
tered him  during  the  years  he  had  most  needed  a 
home.  The  business  had  enabled  him  to  forget,  in  a 
measure,  his  mother's  disgrace,  and  a  feeling  of  in- 
tense regret  came  over  him  when  the  last  good-byes 
had  to  be  said,  and  his  voice  faltered  a  little  when 
Mr.  Bates  came  to  the  waggon  and  wished  him  God- 
speed and  shook  him  once  more  by  the  hand. 

Tom  was  by  no  means  ungrateful  for  all  the  kind- 
ness which  had  been  shown  him,  but  he  was  seized 
with  a  great  desire  to  possess  a  "claim"  at  New 
Rush.  He  had  visions  in  his  mind  of  untold  wealth, 
of  a  certain  sweet  girl  whom  he  longed  to  call  wife, 
so  with  these  ambitious  projects  in  view  he  com- 
menced his  journey. 

He  was  prepared  to  find  things  very  rough  and 
extremely  uncomfortable,  but  the  true  state  of  affairs 
was  far  beyond  what  he  had  pictured.  When  he 
reached  New  Rush  the  desolation  of  the  place  was 
depressing  beyond  description.  There  were  only 
some  thousands  of  tents,  waggons,  a  few  wooden 
framed  canvas  erections,  and  plenty  of  wretched 
canteens,  the  resort  of  the  lowest  grades  of  society, 
and  Tom  feared  that  he  would  be  practically  alone 
even  among  many.  He  managed  to  buy  a  claim 
for  one  hundred  and  twenty  pounds,  a  lucky  chance, 
as  already  the  original  owners,  who  had  pegged  out 
claims  when  the  rush  took  place,  were  selling  por- 
tions of  them — an  eighth,  a  quarter,  or  a  half,  as  the 
case  might  be.  He  drew  up  his  tent  waggon  close 
to  the  spot  and  prepared  to  make  that  his  home. 

All  around  him  were  those  who  came  in  search 
of  diamonds — thousands  and  thousands  eager  to  try 


2O6  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

their  luck — farmers,  shopkeepers,  clerks,  masters. 
and  men  of  all  sorts  and  conditions  ;  but  the  respect- 
able members  of  the  crowd  were  largely  in  the  major- 
ity, and  the  rest  were,  as  a  rule,  fairly  law  abiding  ; 
their  one  object  was  to  obtain  the  precious  white 
stones  hidden  away  in  Mother  Earth.  Day  after  day 
they  toiled  in  the  heat  of  the  blazing  sun,  many  to 
return  to  their  canvas  homes  cruelly  disappointed  ; 
but  when  another  day  broke  they  began  again  to 
scrape  over  very  carefully  the  earth,  hoping  to  find  a 
reward  for  their  labour.  Hour  after  hour  the  patient 
scratching  went  on,  hope  keeping  up  the  heart  of  the 
weary  labourer.  But  Tom  was  so  bent  upon  success 
that  his  surroundings  were  of  little  discomfort  to  him. 
Indeed,  his  zeal  was  so  great  that  nothing  was  likely 
to  upset  him  so  long  as  his  health  stood  him  in  good 
stead,  so  he  determined  to  make  the  best  of  matters 
and  set  to  work  with  a  will  and  begin  operations 
without  further  delay.  His  claim  was  thirty  feet 
square,  and  with  the  help  of  two  Kaffir  boys,  whom 
he  hired  to  do  the  digging,  he  soon  got  to  his  new 
venture.  Very  hard  and  monotonous  it  was  at  first 
to  Tom,  who  had  been  accustomed  to  a  much  easier 
life  at  the  store,  but  he  had  taken  out  his  digger's 
licence  and  made  all  arrangements  to  work  the  claim, 
and  lie  determined  to  continue  through  all  difficulties 
and  to  wait  for  the  luck  he  felt  sure  must  some  time 
come. 

Every  day,  for  two  long  months,  he  had  sat  at  a 
rude  wooden  table,  with  the  bright  burning  sun  above 
his  head,  scraping  with  a  piece  of  old  hoop  iron  the 
earth  carried  to  him  from  his  claim  by  his  two  Kaffir 
boys,  who  continually  kept  bringing  basket  after  bas- 
ket and  depositing  it  on  one  end  of  his  table.  Very 
patiently  he  had  toiled,  but  so  far  he  had  seen  no 
trace  of  a  diamond,  and  a  decided  depression  was 
fast  creeping  over  his  ambitious  hopes,  so  there  were 
hours  when  he  wished  himself  back  at  the  roadside 
store. 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  207 

One  morning,  when  Tom  was  more  than  usually 
depressed  and  down-hearted,  a  stranger  came  up  to 
his  table,  and  stood  watching  him  silently  for  a  few 
moments,  then  he  spoke. 

' '  Well,  governor,  trying  to  make  a  fortune  ?  Pretty 
hard  work,  isn't  it  ?  I  heard  of  the  '  boom, '  so  thought 
I  might  just  as  well  '  rush  it '  with  the  rest.  Had 
any  luck  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Tom  rather  grumpily,  and  he  went  on 
scratching  at  a  mass  of  earth  with  hasty  vigour. 

"Takes  time  and  patience,"  replied  the  stranger, 
"and  if  there's  no  luck  the  expenses  run  pretty  high. 
I  never  heard  of  such  confounded  cheek,  charging  a 
fellow  a  bob  for  a  loaf  of  bread,  and  five  bob  for  a 
little  bit  of  a  cabbage  which  would  be  called  a  stalk 
with  a  couple  of  outside  leaves  in  England.  A  cove 
at  the  canteen  asked  me  three  shillings  for  a  dozen 
eggs,  and  seven  bob  for  a  bushel  of  potatoes. 
'Thanks/  I  says,  'I'll  give  you  three  bob  for  the 
hen,  but  I'm  blest  if  I  will  for  the  eggs,  and  as  for  the 
potatoes,  well,  I  can  go  without.'  Strikes  me  a 
goodish  few  diamonds  are  needed  to  keep  the  pot 
boiling  in  these  parts,"  said  the  stranger  heartily. 

"  Yes,  you'll  find  everything  pretty  dear,"  replied 
Tom,  without  evincing  much  interest  in  the  man, 
who  continued  to  watch  his  movements. 

Nothing  daunted  by  his  cool  reception,  the  stranger 
continued, — 

"I  don't  know  much  about  this  blessed  diamond 
digging,  but  I'm  going  in  fora  'claim/  My  aunt  left 
me  some  money,  so  I  shall  try  the  speculation.  '  Noth- 
ing venture,  nothing  win  ' — good  old  adage  that. 
But,  I  say,  what's  the  licence  cost  for  a  digger  ? " 

"Seven  and  sixpence  a  month,"  replied  Tom, 
shortly. 

"Oh,  seven  and  six!  Anyone  would  think  we 
were  dogs.  But  there,  I'll  pay  that  on  the  chance  of 
scoring  a  few  thirty-carat  diamonds.  Now  what's 
the  worth  of  a  good  diamond  ? "  the  stranger  asked. 


2o8  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

The  question  was  so  direct  that  Tom  was  obliged 
to  give  a  distinct  reply,  though  he  did  so  most  un- 
willingly, for  he  was  tired,  heated,  and  very  sorely 
disappointed,  and  the  intrusion  of  a  stranger  just  at 
that  time  annoyed  him  considerably. 

"A  good-sized  diamond  of — let  me  see,  well,  of 
thirty  to  fifty  carats,  is  worth,  if  'off  colour,'  about 
four  pounds  a  carat ;  if  good  colour,  twelve  pounds 
a  carat;  but  you  have  to  find  them  first,"  said  Tom 
wearily. 

"Just  what  you  are  trying  to  do,  by  the  look  of 
you,"  said  the  stranger  with  good  humour. 

Tom  was  in  no  mood  to  be  joked,  and  to  show  his 
displeasure  he  swept  a  mass  of  the  earth  from  the 
table  on  to  the  ground. 

"  Here,  I  say,  governor,  you'll  never  find  diamonds 
at  that  rate.  Can't  you  do  it  more  gentle  like  ?  "  and 
as  he  spoke  the  stranger  looked  down  at  the  heap  of 
upturned  earth. 

"By  Jove  !  what's  this  ?  "  he  cried  excitedly,  as  he 
stooped  to  pick  up  a  bit  of  soil  which  Tom  had  so 
ruthlessly  swept  from  the  table. 

"  A  diamond  !  a  diamond  1 "  shouted  Tom  in  his 
joy.  "  Hurrah  !  a  diamond  at  last  !  " 

"  Hurrah  !  "  said  the  stranger,  "I'm  in  luck.  Just 
fancy  me  finding  that  after  you  shoved  it  down. 
By  Jove  !  "  he  cried  excitedly. 

"The  first  found  on  my  claim,  too — what  a  jolly 
lucky  fellow  you  are  !  Shake  hands  over  it,  old 
man,"  said  Tom  warmly,  "and  come  to  the  canteen 
and  have  a  drink  on  the  strength  of  our  luck — come 
along." 

"No,  thank  you,  governor  :  I'm  deuced  pleased  I 
was  the  one  to  find  the  first  diamond  on  your  claim, 
but  I'm  'sworn  off.'  The  drink  it's  been  my  curse, 
and  I  mustn't  touch  a  drop,"  said  the  stranger  with 
determination. 

"Oh,  just  this  once  you  can,"  said  Tom  persua- 
sively. "One  drink  cannot  make  much  difference. 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  209 

You  needn't  take  another.     Just  think  of  our  luck." 

"Just  think  of  me  drunk  as  an  owl,  that's  more  to 
the  point.  I  guess  there  would  not  be  much  luck  in 
that — eh,  governor?" 

Tom  was  decidedly  pleased  at  the  man's  refusal, 
but  anxious  to  sho\v  him  some  hospitality,  he 
replied, — 

"Well,  come  to  my  waggon  and  have  some  tea  and 
a  chat,"  said  Tom. 

''I  most  certainly  will  with  pleasure.  Tea  is  tea, 
and  drink  is  drink.  The  one  keeps  me  a  man,  the 
other  a  fool,"  replied  the  stranger. 

Together  they  went  to  the  tent  waggon,  and  after 
many  gloating  looks  at  their  precious  find  they 
settled  down  to  enjoy  tea  and  a  chat. 

As  Tom  talked  the  stranger  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on 
his  face.  Surely  there  was  something  familiar  in  the 
large  fearless  eyes,  and  something  in  the  clear  ring- 
ing voice  which  he  had  heard  before  ? 

But  how  could  that  be  in  the  great  strange  land  ? 
And  yet  he  could  not  rid  himself  of  the  fancy,  and 
as  his  companion  continued  to  chat  the  feeling  grew 
almost  into  a  certainty. 

"1  say,  governor,  what  is  your  name?"  the 
stranger  asked  at  last. 

"Tom  Hesketh,"  uttering  the  surname  as  if  he 
would  rather  have  lett  it  unsaid.  "And  what  is 
yours  ?  "  he  continued. 

"Whanks,  I'm  called  just  Whanks,  and  nothing 
else.  So  you  are  Mr.  Tom  Hesketh,  are  you  ? "  he 
said  quietly.  "Oh,  I  fancied  I  knew  you,  but  I  find 
I  don't.  Got  any  relations  ?  " 

"Yes,  a  father,"  replied  Tom  evasively,  "and  one 
sister  somewhere  in  England,  but  she  turned  out  a 
great  disappointment  to  us.  I  have  no  other  rela- 
tions," he  continued,  ignoring  his  mother  entirely. 

Whanks  was  puzzled.  He  had  never  known  any- 
one of  that  name,  and  yet  he  could  not  dispel  the 
feeling  that  they  had  met  before. 

14 


210  SLAVES   OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

Tom  and  Whanks  spent  the  rest  of  the  hot,  languid 
day  in  talking  over  the  future.  Something  in  the 
frank,  out-spoken  stranger  made  Tom  reluctant  to 
part  with  him,  and  finally  he  decided  to  let  Whanks 
buy  a  portion  of  his  claim,  and  they  arranged  mutu- 
ally to  share  the  tent  waggon  and  throw  their  lives 
into  one  partnership. 

After  the  first  chat  Tom  and  Whanks  never  referred 
to  their  past  lives.  Both  of  them  gave  all  their  time 
and  attention  to  their  work,  and  both  men  were  the 
happier  for  each  other's  company  in  a  strange  land. 
They  were  drawn  together  because  they  both  came 
from  the  dear  old  country  so  iar  away.  Surely  that 
was  a  link  which  nothing  could  bend  or  break  ? 

Tom's  luck  seemed  to  have  taken  a  turn  after 
Whanks  had  joined  the  undertaking,  for  several  fine 
diamonds  were  found  on  their  joint  claim,  and  Tom 
began  to  picture  himself  a  rich  man.  Buoyed  by 
this  hope,  he  worked  with  greater  vigour  than  ever. 

Whanks  laboured  too.  But  he  did  more,  he  in- 
fused a  healthy  merry  tone  amongst  the  rough  and 
often  abandoned  men  around  them,  and  without  in 
any  way  joining  in  dissolute  fun.  He  managed  to 
become  a  general  favourite — playing  tricks  upon  his 
companions,  and  generally  making  fun  amongst 
those  who  had  left  home  and  friends  to  search  for 
riches. 

So  much  was  he  liked  that  one  day  when  it  be- 
came known  that  he  had  gone  alone,  gun  in  hand, 
towards  the  kopjes,  and  a  storm  seemed  inevitable, 
the  greatest  consternation  reigned  in  and  around  the 
canteens,  and  Tom  was  questioned  many  times  as 
the  heat  grew  more  heavy  and  the  air  more  still  and 
oppressive ;  and  although  Tom  laughed  at  their 
fears,  he  felt  seriously  uncomfortable  to  think  of  his 
friend,  alone  and  without  shelter,  if  the  terrible  storm 
should  break  before  his  return. 

Suddenly   it   burst   upon   them,    and   the   •whole 
stretch  of  land,  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  seemed 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST.  2 1 1 

a  livid  mass  of  fire,  whilst  the  thunder  crashed  and 
roared  as  if  it  would  destroy  all  the  earth  with  its 
might  and  its  anger. 

The  men  in  the  canteens  stood  huddled  together, 
silent  with  fear.  But  Tom  repaired  to  his  waggon, 
growing  desperately  uneasy  about  his  companion. 

At  last  there  came  one  blinding,  curling  flash  of 
lightning,  which  seemed  to  envelope  everything  in 
its  vivid  tongue  of  flame,  this  was  followed  by  a 
heavy  crash  which  died  away  in  angry  mutterings, 
and  then  there  was  silence  and  a  calm.  Tom  ven- 
tured to  look  out  of  his  shelter ;  everything  was  like 
a  deluge,  the  water,  from  the  excessive  rain,  coming 
to  the  height  of  his  waggon  wheels,  and  at  the  can- 
teen he  saw  a  man  on  a  horse  which  swam  down 
the  path  with  the  current.  But  above  him  the  sky 
grew  rapidly  blue,  the  sun  shone  out  resplendent  in 
his  glory,  the  storm  had  passed  on  its  way.  But 
where  was  Whanks  ?  As  soon  as  the  water  would 
permit  him,  Tom  descended  from  his  waggon  and 
went  to  the  canteen  to  see  if  Whanks  had  gone  in 
there  at  the  last  moment. 

But  no,  there  was  no  sign  of  him,  and  the  men 
shook  their  heads  and  expressed  their  opinion  that 
no  man  could  live  out  in  that  storm. 

"He'd  be  scorched  to  a  cinder,"  said  one  burly 
man. 

"  He  be  drowned  like  a  rat,"  said  another. 

"  Dead  as  a  flounder  by  this  time  if  he  ain't  in  quad 
somewhere,"  called  a  third  man  in  a  conclusive 
tone. 

"We  can  only  hope  for  the  best,"  said  Tom  at 
last  ;  "he  is  no  fool,"  he  added. 

"  Fool  or  no  fool,"  said  the  first  speaker,  "the 
lightning  don't  care — it  would  as  lief  kill  one  as 
t'other." 

As  they  talked  Whanks  was  seen  approaching  the 
canteen,  gun  in  hand. 

"  Here  he  is,  here  he  is  !  "  cried  a  chorus  of  voices, 
and  they  went  towards  him. 


2 1 2  SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST. 

"Well,  old  fellow,  got  home  again?"  cried  one. 

"  Where  did  you  '  turn  in  '  ?  "  asked  another. 

"  Where  did  you  shelter  ? "  chimed  in  Tom. 

Whanks  stood  before  them  smiling,  dry,  and  with 
a  cheery  look  upon  his  face,  now  crimson  with  the 
heat  of  the  day. 

In  his  hand  he  held  his  gun  and  one  solitary  hare. 

"  Here,  ask  one  question  at  a  time,"  laughed 
Whanks  ;  "a  fellow  cannot  answer  half  of  them. 
Now,  I'll  tell  you  just  where  I've  been,  and  how  I 
escaped,  if  you  care  to  hear." 

"  Go  on,"  they  shouted. 

"  Well,  I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  have  a  bit  of 
an  excursion  up  one  of  the  kopjes  and  bring  down 
what  I  could,  and  this  is  the  result,"  he  added,  hold- 
ing up  the  hare  for  his  companions'  inspection,  and 
then  he  continued  :  "  I  got  to  the  top  of  the  kopje, 
the  sky  above  me  was  lovely,  no  sign  of  storm,  but 
when  I  looked  down  across  the  basin  beyond  I  saw 
the  clouds  in  great  masses,  and  the  lightning  play- 
ing in  the  distance,  and  the  thunder  was  coming 
nearer.  I  cut  down  that  blessed  ridge  as  hard  as 
I  could  pelt,  sticking  to  the  gun  and  the  hare  like 
death.  By  Jove  !  how  hot  it  was  !  In  a  few  mo- 
ments the  storm  clouds  covered  the  sky,  it  was  com- 
ing nearer  every  second.  I  tore  on  for  very  life,  half 
blinded  by  the  flashes  of  lightning.  Suddenly  I  felt 
a  great  dab  of  rain,  and  holding  on  to  the  gun  and 
this  blessed  hare,  I  spurted  all  I  knew,  for  sixty  yards 
away  I  could  see  the  Kaffir  kraals.  I  reached  a  hut 
just  as  the  storm  broke,  and  shot  in  at  the  entrance, 
hare  and  all.  You  should  have  seen  the  look  of  as- 
tonishment on  the  faces  of  the  women  and  children 
as  I  floundered  in  ;  but  they  turned  a  tub  over  to  make 
me  a  seat,  and  there  we  sat,  two  Kaffir  women,  five 
kids,  and  myself,  gun,  and  hare.  They  all  talked, 
so  did  I,  but  we  didn't  understand  a  word  each  other 
said.  By  Jove  !  how  hot  it  was  in  that  hut  !  I  was 
nearly  sick,  and  the  lightning  was  a  treat  I  can  tell 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  213 

you.  For  two  blessed  hours  I  stuck  on  that  tub, 
gasping  and  perspiring  until  I  was  all  of  a  sweat. 
When  I  looked  out  after  the  storm  the  hailstones 
were  as  large  as  pigeon  eggs.  I'm  blowed  if  I'll  go 
hunting  again  in  a  hurry.  I've  waded  home  like  a 
duck  in  a  thunderstorm*;  but  no  more  of  it — thanks, 
gentleman,"  said  Whanks  with  a  bow. 

A  round  of  applause  and  two  or  three  hearty  cheers 
rose  as  Whanks  finished  his  narrative,  and  then,  much 
amused,  they  turned  to  go  to  their  claims,  when 
Whanks  called  out, — 

"  Hi  !  here!  we'll  have  a  raffle  for  the  hare  by- 
and-by,  what  do  you  say,  gentlemen  ?  " 

"  Put  the  gun  in  with  it,"  responded  one  of  them. 
"  And  then  it'll  be  worth  havin',"  called  another. 

"  Here,  look  out  !  "  cried  Whanks,  and  as  he  spoke 
he  flung  the  hare  at  the  group  of  men.  A  scuffle 
took  place  for  its  possession,  which  ended  in  several 
of  the  men  securing  portions  of  the  unfortunate 
animal,  and  amidst  peals  of  laughter  the  party  scat- 
tered to  their  labours,  and  the  incident  of  the  storm 
was  forgotten  in  the  anxiety  for  gain. 

Days,  months,  and  years  sped  on,  and  time  brought 
ruin  to  some  and  wealth  to  others  of  the  toilers. 
Many  had  left  their  claims,  weary,  saddened  men, 
broken  in  health  and  spirits,  with  all  their  hopes 
dashed  into  nothing,  even  as  the  foam  which  crests 
the  waves,  and  though  beautiful  to  the  eyes,  sinks 
away  from  sight  on  the  seashore. 

Others  had  worked  perseveringly  to  the  last  with 
but  little  regard  to  their  disappointment,  but  there 
were  some  who  made  great  riches,  and  amongst 
that  lucky  number  Tom  and  Whanks  stood  almost 
first  on  the  list.  On  the  average,  three  hundred 
diamonds  in  ten  months  had  come  to  their  share,  a 
fair  number  only  a  little  off  colour,  and  a  small  per 
cent,  say  three  or  four  percent.,  quite  perfect.  This 
continued  for  some  years,  and  one  night  Tom  said 
to  Whanks, — 


214 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 


"  I  don't  feel  inclined  to  go  on  diamond  hunting 
much  longer.  When  shall  we  go  back  to  the  old 
country?  I  haven't  heard  from  my  father  for  a  long 
time  ;  I  think  I  shall  go  and  see  the  old  man." 

"  And  your  sister,  too,  I  suppose?" 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  replied  Tom  quickly. 

"  Well,  I  shall  go  home  soon,  because  a  friend  has 
written  to  me  that  a  someone  I  knew  is  dead,  and 
the  children  are  left  quite  at  their  father's  mercy,  and 
I  should  like  to  see  to  them.  But  I  sha'n't  go  until 
I  hear  again.  Maybe  there  is  some  mistake  as  to 
her  death,"  said  Whanks  quietly. 

"  Her  !  "  replied  Tom,  dwelling  upon  the  her,  and 
smiling  sadly.  "  There  is  a  lady  in  the  case,  eh? " 

"  In  her  coffin,  you  mean,"  said  Whanks  bitterly. 
"Ah!  Mr,  Hesketh,  you  don't  know  the  circum- 
stances— poor  Miss  Leila,  Miss  Leila  !  " 

He  dropped  his  voice  almost  to  a  whisper. 

"  Leila,  Leila  !  What  was  her  other  name?  "  asked 
Tom,  turning  white. 

"  Leila  Gurney  once,  afterwards  Leila  Castelli. 
Poor  thing,  poor  thing !  I  ought  never  to  have  left 
her." 

"  What  had  you  to  do  with  her?  Tell  me,  tell  me 
quickly,  was  she  married  ?  " 

"  Married !  "  said  Whanks.  "  Of  course  she  was. 
Are  you  an  old  sweetheart,  then  ? " 

"  No,"  replied  Tom.  "  No  ;  I  am  Tom  Gurney. 
My  sister's  name  was  Leila.  Tell  me  all — all  there 
is  to  know.  Tell  me,  is  she  dead  ?  " 

Whanks  and  Tom  sat  that  night  through,  and  when 
the  pale  stars  waned,  and  when  the  glories  of  another 
waking  day  were  at  hand  and  ready  to  burst  with 
hues  of  splendour,  they  still  sat  talking. 

There  was  so  much  to  tell. 

But  it  was  all  sadness,  for  Leila  Gurney  had  known 
little  joy.  And  as  Leila  Castelli  still  less. 

Was  the  lijrht  of  her  life  dead  ? 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST.  215 


CHAPTER  XX. 

IN    SACRED    AISLE. 

THE  months  had  measured  out  their  span — the  years 
had  run  their  course.  Springtimes  had  changed  to 
winter,  summers  succeeded  each  other  since  Leila 
had  been  laid  to  rest.  Many  glorious  dawns  had  lit 
up  the  lonely  grave  marked  by  the  plain  marble  slab, 
and  the  last  lingering  beams  of  day  had,  unnoticed, 
shed  their  softest  light  where  the  circus  rider  lay. 

Dead  and  gone,  almost  forgotten  amongst  those 
with  whom  she  had  lived  and  toiled  ;  forgotten  by 
the  applauding  audiences,  for  there  were  others  to 
take  her  place,  others  to  do  all  that  she  had  done, 
and  the  people  were  satisfied. 

Are  the  dear  dead  to  be  cast  out  of  mind  like  a 
vision  which  passes  by  and  is  lost  to  remembrance 
as  time  goes  on  ? 

The  widower  cries  "Yes,"  the  widow  is  ready  to 
smile  at  the  new  fresh  love,  and  to  forget  the  old 
days  when  the  now  dead  man  had  wooed  her  and 
made  her  his  bride.  Alas  !  alas  !  Such  is  death — 
such  is  life. 

Leila's  children  had  passed  through  the  years 
happily  enough.  Their  father,  if  not  actually  in- 
dulgent, did  not  ill-use  them  ;  he  had  never  used 
personal  violence  to  them  since  his  wife's  death. 
He  had  so  far  fulfilled  his  promises  to  her.  They 
had  been  his  constant  companions  in  all  his  Con- 
tinental engagements,  and  he  left  them  to  follow 
their  own  pursuits  without  much  restriction,  so  long 
as  they  caused  him  no  personal  annoyance.  He  had 
devoted  neither  time  nor  money  to  their  education, 


2 1 6  SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  IVD  UST. 

nevertheless  the  children  had  managed  to  pick  up  a 
fund  of  knowledge,  acquired  by  visiting  foreign 
cities  and  through  the  girl's  natural  taste  for  reading. 
Vanda  had  inherited  all  her  mother's  refined  nature, 
and  she  had  an  intense  love  for  nature  and  all  that 
was  beautiful,  and  eagerly  she  sought  to  understand 
everything  that  came  before  her.  Child  as  she  was, 
she  did  her  best  to  teach  Adrian  all  she  knew  and 
read.  But  his  tastes  were  somewhat  different  to  those 
of  his  sister.  She  could  spend  hours  reading,  but 
Adrian  loved  nothing  but  pictures  and  poetry,  and 
in  books  he  evinced  very  little  interest — unless  they 
contained  the  life  of  an  artist  he  could  not  be  per- 
suaded to  read  them.  He  showed  no  taste  for  his 
father's  profession,  and  seldom  asked  to  go  with  him 
to  the  circus.  He  had  made  up  his  mind  to  be  a 
painter  some  day,  and  to  paint  great  pictures  like 
those  he  had  seen  in  the  cathedrals. 

Castelli,  to  humour  him,  had  bought  him  a  paint- 
box, and  for  hours  the  lad  would  sit  making  little 
sketches  with  his  brush,  rude  in  construction,  but 
showing  genius  and  originality  of  design.  Vanda 
treasured  these  boyish  paintings,  and  very  carefully 
she  stowed  them  away  at  the  bottom  of  her  box ; 
they  were  the  dearest  and  most  precious  of  her  scanty 
possessions. 

Poor  little  child,  all  the  love  of  her  heart  was  cen- 
tred upon  her  brother  ;  there  was  nothing  she  would 
not  sacrifice  to  ensure  his  comfort.  He  was  her  one 
thought  day  and  night,  and  in  return  for  this  strong 
affection  Adrian  gave  her  a  most  devoted  love. 
Thus  the  days  passed,  and  the  children,  happy  in 
their  tender  feeling  towards  each  other,  never  dreamt 
of  sadness  coming  to  cast  its  shadows  over  their 
brightness. 

But  the  gloaming  was  at  hand.  The  days  of  joy, 
peace,  and  rest  were  fast  drawing  to  a  close. 

The  hereafter  was  to  be  for  a  time  hell  upon 
earth. 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 


217 


It  was  in  the  festive  city  of  Brussels  that  the  cloud 
first  appeared  upon  the  horizon  of  their  young  lives. 

The  circus  had  been  there  some  time,  and  the 
children  had  enjoyed  the  sights  of  the  great  gay 
town.  Adrian  had  spent  much  of  his  time  at  the 
cathedral,  and  once  he  found  his  way  to  the  Wiertz 
Musee,  and  for  hours  had  stood  rooted  to  the  spot 
with  wonder.  One  picture,  representing  Napoleon 
Buonaparte  in  hell,  fascinated  him  beyond  descrip- 
tion, and  when  he  reached  home  he  attempted  to 
portray  the  well-known  figure,  in  its  white  coat,  with 
the  cocked  hat  drawn  down  over  the  brows.  Vanda 
was  delighted  with  his  efforts,  and  Wiertz  himself 
never  received  half  the  praise  for  his  great  master- 
piece that  Adrian  did  from  his  proud  and  loving 
sister. 

At  the  cathedral  Adrian  found  more  difficulty  in 
watching  his  beloved  pictures  and  statues,  for  the 
verger  had  found  out  they  came  from  the  circus,  and 
several  times  he  had  sternly  ordered  the  children 
from  the  building  when  he  found  they  did  not  come 
to  pray  to  the  Blessed  Virgin  or  to  bring  offerings  to 
some  saint. 

Vanda  was  afraid  to  go  again  ;  but  one  afternoon 
Adrian  had  been  gone  some  hours,  and  she  began 
to  grow  anxious,  and  at  her  father's  suggestion  she 
went  to  look  for  him. 

Very  softly  fell  her  footsteps  as  she  entered  the 
dim,  still  Cathedral  of  St.  Gudule  et  St.  Michael. 
She  trembled  and  started  nervously  when  the  heavy 
oaken  door  gave  a  creak  as  she  closed  it.  Very 
cautiously  she  entered,  looking  around  after  every 
hasty  footfall.  Once  she  paused  to  listen  to  a  sound, 
but  perchance  it  was  only  the  pit-a-pat  of  her  own 
anxious  heart.  She  gained  a  little  courage  as  she 
went,  and  at  last  she  stood  opposite  one  of  the  great 
stained  windows.  She  listened  again  ;  all  was 
silent.  The  last  notes  of  the  organ  had  died  away 
after  the  solemn  vesper  hour,  the  worshippers  had 


2 1 8  SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WD UST. 

gone  homewards,  only  a  faint  blue  mist  remained 
over  the  Altar  of  Mysteries,  for  it  was  not  long  since 
the  incense  had  arisen  to  purify  the  earthiness  around 
the  tabernacle,  and  now  its  fragrance  had  floated 
down  the  choir  and  reached  the  nave  beyond. 

The  perpetual  lamp  before  the  sacred  Host  flick- 
ered now  and  again,  making  the  brilliants  on  the 
cross  reflect  gleams  of  purple,  blue,  and  crimson, 
yet  they,  too,  were  somewhat  veiled  in  the  shadows 
of  the  incense  cloud.  Suddenly  the  setting  sun 
broke  through  the  painted,  figured  windows,  which 
tell  the  story  of  the  stolen  wafer,  spreading  a  ruddy 
glow  over  transept  and  aisles,  and  resting  on  the 
deep  bays,  lighting  niches  and  statues  with  glitter- 
ing hues,  seeming  to  rest  longer  upon  the  represen- 
tation of  the  Saviour  of  the  People.  But  the  shadows 
came  betwixt  the  ruby  tints  and  the  cross  of  gold, 
and  then  the  rays  lit  up  the  last  resting  places  of 
many  a  noble  house,  brightening  the  dim  vaults  of 
the  Princes  of  the  House  of  Austria,  which  grew  bril- 
liant with  blue  and  crimson.  Intense  and  chang- 
ing grew  the  colours  as  they  glided  over  the  polished 
marble  floor,  and  then  lingered  almost  lovingly  over 
the  girlish  figure  standing  alone  beside  a  mighty 
column.  A  halo  of  brilliance  rested  upon  and  around 
her  head.  She  was  crowned  with  glory  as  no  earthly 
crown  can  ever  shine,  clothed  with  divers  colours 
with  which  no  artist  can  ever  clothe  his  model,  for 
were  they  not  the  offsprings  of  a  light  which  never 
fades  or  grows  dim  ? 

Despite  her  fear,  despite  her  somewhat  untidy 
apparel,  Vanda  was  absolute  in  her  beauty.  Even 
when  the  sun  sank  behind  the  summer  clouds,  and 
left  the  cathedral  dim  and  lonely,  even  then  Vanda 
was  beautiful.  She  knew  that,  for  did  not  the  groups 
outside  the  cafes  whisper  as  she  passed. 

Suddenly  she  paused,  and  her  small  voice  broke 
the  actual  stillness  of  the  spot  where  she  stood. 
Her  voice  was  so  soft  that  it  could  not  have  reached 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST.  219 

the  altar,  where  the  body  of  Christ,  in  the  fofm  of 
the  wafer,  rested  in  the  Tabernacle  waiting  for  the 
"Adoration  of  the  Faithful." 

"Adrian  !  "  she  called,  "Adrian  !  " 

But  no  reply  came  from  behind  the  massive  pil- 
lars, no  voice  answered  that  plaintive  cry.  The  si- 
lence seemed  the  greater  after  her  voice  was  hushed, 
as  in  the  valley  when  the  echo  has  died  away. 

She  listened.  The  light  in  the  cathedral  was  grow- 
ing dim,  the  cloud  of  incense  was  gone,  the  figures 
of  the  disciples  looked  white  and  cold  against  the 
deepening  twilight. 

She  would  call  once  again,  for  Adrian  often  came 
to  watch  the  changing  lights,  the  pictures,  and  the 
altars,  with  their  flowers  and  gems.  She  moved 
towards  the  Lady  Chapel.  There,  high  above  the 
altar,  stood  a  life-sized  figure  of  the  Virgin  Mother, 
robed  in  spotless  white.  Behind  the  canvas  a  light 
burnt  dimly,  and  in  the  gloaming  the  beauty  of  the 
figure  stood  out  in  bold  relief.  For  a  moment  it 
startled  her  to  see  that  living  picture.  She  had  seen 
it  often  before,  but  somehow  it  looked  more  pure, 
more  still  than  she  had  ever  remembered  ? 

She  wondered  if  their  mother  looked  like  that  now 
she  was  an  angel. 

She  gazed  awe-struck  for  a  moment  or  so,  and 
then  she  called  in  a  louder  voice, 

"Adrian  !  Adrian  !  are  you  here?" 

But  there  was  no  response,  only  a  rattle  of  keys, 
a  heavy  footstep,  a  cough,  loud  and  prolonged,  Van- 
da  knew  it  was  Tose  come  to  light  up  for  the  Bene- 
diction service.  If  he  caught  her,  a  child  of  the 
circus,  unbaptised,  a  child  who  had  never  confessed 
to  the  priests  or  knelt  at  the  communion  !  How 
often  before  he  had  found  her  lingering  there  with 
Adrian  !  Ho\v  often  had  he  told  them  to  begone, 
and  not  to  turn  the  cathedral  into  a  promenade ! 
So  she  knew  it  would  be  useless  to  ask  him  to  let 
her  find  Adrian,  and  she  turned  and  fled.  And 


220  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

whilsj  she  wandered  down  the  steep  hill  to  the 
bright  boulevard  the  candies  blazed  upon  the  altars, 
and  the  organ  poured  forth  glorious  strains,  and  the 
kneeling  people  raised  their  voices  in  the  Ave  Maria 
Stella,  and  priests  bowed  before  the  consecrated 
wafer  and  worshipped,  but  Vanda  never  prayed  now. 

When  she  reached  home  she  found  Adrian  there  ; 
he  had  come  in  whilst  she  had  been  seeking  him  in 
the  cathedral. 

"Father  has  been  gone  ever  so  long,"  said  the 
child,  "  and  I  couldn't  think  where  you  were.  Will 
you  read  something  to  me,  Vanda?" 

"We  will  have  some  supper  first,  Adrian,  and 
then  I  will  read  to  you  about  Zeuxis,"  replied  Vanda. 

"Who  is  Zeuxis  ?"  asked  the  child.  "  If  he  is  a 
horrid  king  out  of  the  history  of  some  place  I  don't 
want  to  hear  anything  about  him." 

"Zeuxis  was  a  Grecian  painter,  Adrian." 

The  child's  eyes  brightened  at  once,  his  interest 
was  aroused,  and  he  said, — - 

"A  painter  !  Tell  me  some  more  about  him,  and 
where  did  you  see  about  him  ?  " 

"In  a  book  which  Ringens  gave  mother  long, 
ever  so  long  ago.  Zeuxis  painted  a  bunch  of  grapes 
so  like  real  grapes  that  the  little  birds  came  and  pecked 
them,  and  then  he  did  another  picture,  a  boy,  I 
daresay  like  you.  holding  a  bunch  of  grapes,  which 
the  birds  also  flew  to  and  pecked  ;  but  this  made 
the  painter  very  angry,  because  he  said  his  picture 
was  not  natural,  and  that  if  he  had  drawn  the  boy 
as  well  as  he  had  planted  the  grapes,  the  birds  would 
have  been  afraid  of  him.  Was  not  that  funny, 
Adrian  ?  "  she  asked,  glad  to  have  something  to  tell 
him  which  gave  him  pleasure. 

"Is  he  dead ?  "  asked  the  child. 

"  Years  and  years  ago  ;  he  died  from  laughing  at 
the  picture  of  an  old  woman  he  had  painted,"  replied 
Vanda  smilingly.  "But  I  sha'n't  tell  you  any  more 
until  we  have  had  supper." 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST.  1 2 1 

They  sat  down  together  to  eat  the  portions  which 
Castelli  had  prepared  for  them  before  he  went  to  the 
circus,  and  then  Vanda  set  herself  the  task  of  reading 
and  amusing  Adrian  until  their  bedtime. 

Whilst  they  chatted  happily  at  home  a  man  and 
woman  were  walking  slowly  under  the  trees  in  the 
Boulevard  de  Waterloo.  The  gas  lamps  flickered 
on  the  splendid  beauty  of  the  woman  and  on  the 
fierce,  cruel  face  of  the  man,  who  was  talking  with 
great  earnestness. 

"If  you  can  get  round  him  the  thing  can  be 
arranged  easily  enough — get  them  into  my  hands 
I  am  determined  I  will  at  any  cost,"  said  the  man, 
with  a  fiendish  gleam  in  his  bright,  cold  eyes. 

"You  still  bear  the  mother  a  grudge,  do  you?" 
asked  the  woman,  smiling  sweetly. 

"You  know  I  do,  Cleo.  I  swore  I  would  have 
my  revenge  for  taking  that  summons  out  against 
me.  I  lost  a  good  engagement  over  that  cursed 
business — had  to  '  cut '  for  fear  of  what  might  come 
out  if  she  went  into  the  court.  I  hate  her  memory," 
said  Horrox  with  a  hiss. 

"  And  so  do  I,"  replied  Cleo.  "  If  it  had  not  been 
for  her  infernal  scheming  I  should  have  been  Cas- 
telli's  wife.  She  took  the  only  man  I  loved  from 
me,  and  if  I  can  plan  revenge  on  her  children,  trust 
me  for  doing  so.  You  shall  get  them  into  your 
power  before  long,  I  bet.  The  girl  must  be  about 
twelve  or  thirteen,  and  the  boy  a  year  or  so  younger. 
They  told  me  down  at  the  circus  that  Castelli  lets 
them  do  just  as  they  please,  and  they  spend  all  the 
blessed  day  at  picture  galleries  and  idling  away  their 
time.  Neither  of  them  have  been  brought  up  to 
earn  a  penny,  but  they  are  stunners — just  lovely 
children.  When  did  you  see  them  last  ?  " 

"Yesterday,"  replied  Horrox.  "You  seel  don't 
open  here  until  Saturday  night — neither  do  you — • 
but  I  thought  it  best  to  scheme  out  the  future  and 
get  matters  settled,  and  then  we  shall  see  what  they 


222  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

will  have  to  earn  for  me.  I'm  damned  if  they  will  go 
to  any  more  picture  galleries.  They  will  have  to 
keep  me,  and  take  your  oath  my  training  won't  err 
on  the  side  of  kindness — revenge  is  sweet — and  I 
long  to  get  the  handling  of  them.  It  must  be  done 
somehow,"  replied  Horrox  determinedly. 

"But  Castelli  will  never  give  them  up  to  you," 
said  Cleo  with  certainty  in  her  voice. 

"Who  the  devil  supposed  he  would,"  replied  the 
man  with  anger.  "  You  must  get  him  to  apprentice 
them  to  someone,  and  I  will  arrange  for  them  to  be 
handed  over  to  me,  and  then  we'll  see  what  hard 
work  and  the  whip  will  do.  I  sha'n't  spare  them  ; 
the  mother  had  her  turn  against  me,  and  now  it's 
my  turn  against  her  brats.  If  I  don't  have  my  re- 
venge my  name  isn't  Horrox." 

"Right  you  are,"  replied  Cleo  with  a  satisfied  air. 
"Castelli  has  been  sweet  enough  to  me  since  his 
wife  died,  but  that  goes  for  nothing — it's  his  way 
with  women  ;  but  I'll  bring  about  the  matter  some- 
how. Leave  it  to  me." 

"I'll  stand  you  something  handsome  when  you 
have  done  the  job  ;  but  whatever  we  do  we  must 
keep  quiet,  and  don't  hang  on  to  me  down  at  the 
circus.  And  when  you  suggest  to  Castelli  that  his 
children  should  be  apprenticed,  lay  it  on  strong  that 
they  should  go  to  a  man  who  will  take  care  of  them  ; 
at  the  same  time  we  must  choose  him,  and  make 
arrangements  with  him  to  pass  them  over  to  me." 

"That's  a  matter  for  detail  later  on,"  replied  Cleo  ; 
"  we  have  to  get  them  first." 

They  walked  on  some  distance,  then  turned  into 
a  cafe  and  refreshed  themselves  with  coffee  and  cog- 
nac, and  before  they  parted  that  night  the  ruin  of 
two  children  had  been  planned,  two  happy  lives 
were  to  be  marred  by  cruelty  and  brutality,  two 
more  white  slaves  to  be  added  to  the  ranks  of  those 
who  suffer  for  the  pleasure  of  the  people. 

Slavery,  of  course,  it  is  not  called — it  owns  the  re- 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST. 


223 


spectable  name  of  apprenticeship,  but  what  else  can 
it  be  ?  There  is,  after  the  training  is  over,  a  weekly- 
wealth  for  the  master — for  the  little  children,  hard 
work,  drudgery,  blows,  torture,  and  no  pay. 

But  perhaps  that  is  not  slavery  after  all. 

Christian  England  cannot  yet  decide. 

It  may  some  day. 


224  SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

A  BROKEN  PLEDGE. 

STEALTHILY  and  ingeniously  Cleo  set  about  her  task 
of  taking  Castelli's  children  from  their  home.  She 
put  forth  all  her  talons,  and  like  a  bird  of  prey  she 
was  determined  to  seize  her  spoil  at  the  first  oppor- 
tunity. 

Cruel  and  heartless,  and  burning  with  an  unquench- 
able revenge,  no  tender  feelings  arose  in  her  heart 
for  the  young  children  whose  happiness  she  was 
planning  to  destroy. 

Many  women  are  born  without  that  most  priceless 
gift,  a  tender  heart.  In  them  stillness  reigns  where 
yearning  sympathy  should  live  ;  a  hollow  void  chills 
passion  which  nature  would  gladly  obey  ;  they  know 
not  the  feelings  which  soften  life  and  give  joy  to 
the  eyes  and  balm  to  the  sorrow  stricken. 

There  are  too  many  such. 

After  Leila's  death  Cleo  had  thrown  herself  con- 
tinually in  Castelli's  way.  At  first  he  treated  her 
with  silent  contempt — the  remembrance  of  his  dead 
young  wife  was  too  keen  to  permit  him  to  take  much 
notice  of  any  woman,  for  he  honestly  mourned  her. 
But  Cleo  was  patient,  and  contented  herself  by  wait- 
ing until  his  affection  for  his  wife  had  passed  off. 
She  contrived  to  procure  engagements  wherever  Cas- 
telli  happened  to  perform,  and  thus  they  were  con- 
stantly thrown  together.  As  time  went  on  he  grew 
more  civil  towards  her,  and  would  even  enter  into 
short  conversations  with  her  at  the  rehearsals.  At 
such  times  she  used  all  her  powers  to  fascinate  him. 
Once  or  twice  she  had  offered  to  go  and  see  his 
children,  but  this  Castelli  had  sternly  refused,  for 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WD  UST.  225 

he  was  sufficiently  honest  to  own  to  himself  that  she 
was  not  the  sort  of  companion  Leila  would  have 
chosen  for  her  little  ones. 

But,  like  the  water-washed  stone,  time  wears  away 
the  rough  surface  of  sorrow,  and  life  comes  to  look 
very  much  as  it  did  before  the  great  grief  came  to 
shadow  it  with  care. 

And  as  the  years  sped  on  Castelli  unconsciously 
began  to  find  delight  in  her  society,  and  a  strong  and 
exclusive  friendship  sprang  up  between  the  two,  she 
gaining  influence  over  him  gradually  but  surely. 
But  still  he  showed  no  indication  of  wishing  to  make 
her  his  wife,  and  Cleo,  try  as  she  might,  could  not 
bring  him  up  to  the  desired  point. 

One  morning  after  a  rehearsal  Castelli  stood  in  the 
ring  talking  to  Cleo. 

"  You're  going  to  Bombay — you're  joking  surely  ?" 
said  Cleo. 

"I  have  had  the  offer  to  go  out  to  a  circus  there, 
and  I  am  sick  of  England,  so  I  think  I  shall  go." 
He  paused  as  if  anxious  to  see  how  the  proposition 
affected  his  hearer. 

"When  do  you  propose  to  start?"  she  asked 
curtly. 

"  After  the  Christmas  holidays  are  over,"  he  re- 
plied. "  It  will  be  a  change  altogether  ;  yes,  I  am 
sure  I  shall  take  the  engagement.  There  is  only  one 
obstacle  in  the  way  or  I  shouldn't  hesitate  a  mo- 
ment." 

"The  children,  I  suppose  you  mean?  You  can't 
drag  them  to  Bombay,  the  expense  would  be  just 
awful,  and  it  wouldn't  be  good  for  them,"  answered 
Cleo  cautiously. 

"You've  hit  it,"  replied  Castelli ;  "it's  the  children 
I  am  thinking  about." 

"Oh,  you  don't  mind  leaving  me,  that's  plain," 
said  Cleo  as  a  try  on. 

He  hesitated  before  he  replied,  and  then  he  said 
smilingly, —  15 


226  SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST. 

"I  shall  miss  you,  Cleo,  but  I  cannot  expect  you 
to  go  out  there." 

"Why  the  deuce  not?"  she  asked,  looking  him 
straight  in  the  face. 

He  hardly  knew  what  to  reply,  and  then  he 
said, — 

"  You  might  find  it  rather  difficult  to  get  an  engage- 
ment at  your  business  ;  it's  a  toss  up  whether  they 
need  anyone  in  your  line.  I'll  try  and  find  out 
through  the  agent  if  you  like," 

She  paused  before  she  spoke  again  ;  the  chance 
was  too  good  to  be  lost  by  want  of  tact  or  by  being 
in  too  great  haste. 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  should  care  to  go  so  far  alone. 
You  see  if  I  was  married  and  had  someone  to  look 
after  me  I  shouldn't  mind  how  far  I  went.  Don't 
trouble  to  inquire  at  present,  I  must  consider,"  she 
replied  quietly. 

"Ill  look  after  you,"  said  Castelli  quickly,  really 
anxious  to  have  the  clever  southern  woman  as  his 
companion. 

"Oh,  yes,  and  then  go  and  get  married  like  you 
did  before,  and  leave  me  to  get  on  as  best  I  can. 
Oh,  no,  thanks  ;  much  obliged  for  the  offer." 

The  sarcasm  in  her  voice  struck  Castelli  painfully, 
but  he  replied  sternly, — 

"I  shall  never  marry  again;  I  could  not  find 
another  Leila  if  I  sought  the  world  over,"  and  a 
shadow  of  sadness  came  over  his  face. 

Cleo  noticed  it,  and  a  very  bitter  feeling  of  resent- 
ment against  the  dead  woman  ro'se  in  her  heart ; 
but  she  stifled  it,  so  that  he  should  not  see  how  an- 
noyed she  was  at  the  praise  he  had  bestowed  upon 
his  wife. 

"That's  true  enough,  I  daresay,  but  there  are 
other  women  who  would  be  just  as  fond  of  you  if 
you  gave  them  half  a  chance,"  she  added  as  a 
hint. 

"Yes,    but  that   isn't  much  good  if  I  don't  love 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  227 

them.  Love  doesn't  grow  on  every  tree,  by  a  long 
chalk ;  you  can't  find  mistletoe  on  every  branch. 
No,  no  ;  I'll  look  after  you,  Cleo,  with  pleasure,  but 
the  wife  business  is  out  of  the  question." 

Cleo  grew  crimson  as  he  spoke,  and  replied  an- 
grily,— 

"/don't  want  to  be  your  wife  if  thats  what  you 
think  I'm  driving  at.  I  only  said  I  did  not  want 
to  be  chucked  up  if  you  married  again,  and  then  the 
children  they  must  be  th — " 

A  crack  of  a  whip,  a  thud  of  horses'  hoofs.  A 
young  girl  and  a  powerfully  built,  severe-looking 
man  left  the  ring.  He  turned  to  Cleo,  saying  brusque- 

iy,- 

"  Here,  clear  out  of  this  quick ;  it's  my  turn  here 
now." 

"  You  be  hanged  with  your  sauce  !  "  she  retorted, 
angry  at  being  disturbed,  but  she  moved  away  as 
she  spoke,  whilst  Castelli  remained  to  talk  with  the 
manager. 

As  she  passed  out  of  the  circus  Horrox  was  stand- 
ing on  the  pavement,  and  he  came  up  to  where  she 
stood. 

"It's  no  go  yet,  "she  said,  shaking  her  head  ;  "he's 
off  to  Bombay.  He  doesn't  intend  to  marry  again. 
He  can't  forget  the  blessed  Leila.  It's  my  belief 
he'll  take  the  brats  with  him,  and  if  so  you  may 
whistle  for  your  revenge,"  she  answered  with  a 
sneer. 

"The  devil!  Did  you  ask  him  to  marry  you, 
then  ?  You  seem  darned  put  out,"  he  replied  calmly. 

"No  ;  I  hinted  it  to  him  just  to  see  which  way  the 
land  lay.  You  may  trust  me,  I'll  get  him  somehow. 
I  don't  care  which  way  it  is,"  she  said  with  anger. 
"But  leave  it  all  to  me,  and  to-night  I'll  think  what 
will  be  the  best  means  to  work  the  dodge.  He  says 
he  does  not  know  where  to  leave  them,  and  to- 
morrow I  mean  to  make  him  an  offer." 

"You!     He   won't  leave  them   with  you,"  said 


228  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

Horrox  quickly;   "surely  you're  not  such  a  fool  as 
to  suggest  that  ?  " 

"  Leave  it  to  me.  Either  let  me  manage  the  thing 
or  do  it  yourself,  and  go  to  the  devil  for  what  I  care," 
she  added  with  passion. 

"Not  to-day,  thank  you;  perhaps  I  may  some 
other  day,"  he  replied  flippantly. 

She  ignored  his  remark  and  said  coolly, — 

"Well,  au  revoir.     I  shall  win  the  game  yet." 

An  oath  fell  from  his  lips,  but  Cleo  had  passed  out 
of  hearing. 

"She's  a  perfect  devil,  there's  no  mistaking  that 
Castelli  is  too  wideawake  to  marry  her  I  bet.  He'd 
be  a  blamed  fool  if  he  did." 

He  uttered  another  vile  oath  and  sauntered  towards 
his  apartments. 

Castelli,  walking  hurriedly,  passed  him.  He  gave 
Horrox  a  curt  nod  as  he  passed.  There  was  no  fel- 
lowship between  the  men. 

A  mutual  but  silent  hatred  existed,  and  they  seldom 
exchanged  common  civilities. 

When  Cleo  went  home  she  thought  out  many  a 
crafty  plan,  and  after  sitting  quietly  for  some  time  she 
said  aloud, — 

"Le  Sale,  he's  the  man  to  send  them  to  at  first, 
and  then  Horrox  must  bargain  with  him  ;  that's  his 
part  of  the  show.  But  I  shall  have  to  go  pretty  gin- 
gerly to  work  with  Castelli." 

It  was  some  days  before  another  opportunity  oc- 
curred for  her  to  speak  to  Castelli,  and  in  the  mean- 
time he  had  been  thinking  how  much  he  should  miss 
Cleo  when  he  had  left  England.  Somehow  the  hand- 
some Spanish  woman  always  fascinated  him,  and 
his  thoughts  were  constantly  wandering  to  her.  She 
had  won  his  heart,  but  he  was  loth  to  own  it. 

She  looked  unusually  handsome  when  she  walked 
into  his  room  at  the  circus  one  evening  when  her  per- 
formance was  over.  His  "show"  was  over  and  he 
was  preparing  to  leave. 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  229 

"  Don't  go,  Castelli.  I  want  a  word  with  you,"  she 
said  eagerly. 

He  looked  up  at  her  bright,  cheery  face,  and  at 
once  remained  to  hear  what  she  had  to  say. 

"When  you  spoke  of  going  to  Bombay  the  other 
morning  you  led  me  to  think  that  your  children  were 
the  bugbear.  I  have  thought  since  why  not  let 
Le  Sale  have  them?  He  wants  apprentices,  so  I 
hear." 

She  paused  and  waited  anxiously  for  his  reply. 

"Put  Vanda  and  Adrian  to  the  show  business? 
That  is  impossible.  I  promised  my  wife  that  neither 
of  them  should  be  apprenticed  to  our  work,  and  I 
mean  to  keep  to  it,"  he  said  firmly. 

"But  I  think  Leila  must " 

Her  sentence  was  interrupted  by  Castelli  exclaim- 
ing impatiently, — 

"Don't  speak  of  my  wife  by  her  Christian  name. 
You  were  not  her  friend,  and  I  object  to  it,  once  and 
for  all." 

She  saw  all  would  be  lost  if  she  did  not  humour 
him  in  his  present  frame  of  mind,  so  she  replied 
sweetly, — 

"I  beg  pardon,  I  meant  no  offence.  You  see  her 
name  figured  on  the  bills,  and  we  all  seemed  to  best 
know  her  by  her  Christian  name,  but  I  didn't  mean 
to  upset  you.  I  must  be  careful  in  future ;  but  I  am 
sure  Madame  Castelli  only  meant  you  to  promise 
they  should  not  fall  into  bad  hands.  She  was  not  the 
sort  of  " — person  she  was  going  to  say,  but  she  sub- 
stituted— "lady  to  wish  them  to  do  nothing.  Suppose 
you  died,  what  would  become  of  them  ?  They  would 
be  much  better  earning  for  themselves  than  left  to 
starve  in  the  streets." 

"That  maybe  so,"  replied  Castelli,  "but  she  made 
me  promise  all  the  same.  You  see  the  Horrox  affair 
upset  her,  and  after  that  she  made  up  her  mind  to  keep 
the  children  clear  of  it." 

"Oh,  Horrox  is  a  brute  I"  Cleo  replied  cunningly, 


230 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 


"but  Le  Sale  is  very  kind  to  his  children  ;  he  en- 
courages them  by  kindness.  I  have  heard  that  he 
has  never  'flicked 'his  whip  at  any  of  his  apprentices. 
Perhaps  your  wife  was  not  aware  such  masters  existed 
among  us  ?  I  bet  Le  Sale  would  suit  any  mother. 
Have  you  seen  him  ? "  she  asked  quickly. 

Castelli  smiled  and  then  replied, — 

"  Yes,  I  have  met  him  at  lots  of  Continental 
circuses ;  he  is  a  fool.  I  should  like  to  know  what 
he  has  scored  with  his  pupils.  Why  none  of  them 
have  been  big  successes  ;  he  reminds  me  of  a  tame  cat 
in  the  ring.  Once  when  Belaine  was  ill  he  asked  Le 
Sale  to  put  his  celebrated  trick  horse  through  his  per- 
formance. Well,  I  never  saw  such  a  beastly  muddle 
as  he  made  of  the  show.  He  stood  in  the  middle  of 
the  ring  more  afraid  of  the  horse  than  the  horse  was 
of  him,  but  'Wainfleet'  knew  his  work,  and  when 
the  music  changed  he  understood  what  came  next, 
and  just  went  on  without  any  master.  Le  Sale 
cracked  his  whip  feebly  now  and  then,  and  bowed 
nervously  when  the  people  applauded.  The  horse 
just  went  on  as  if  the  man  wasn't  there,  and  that  old 
fool  got  as  red  in  the  face  as  if  he  was  going  to  have, 
a  fit ;  and  when  he  came  out  of  the  ring  I  asked  him 
for  fun  how  he  had  got  on,  and  I'm  darned  if  he 
didn't  answer  as  meekly  as  a  modest  curate  :  'Oh, 
the  horse  got  on  all  right — if  he  had  forgotten,  I 
don't  quite  know  what  I  should  have  done,  but  luckily 
he  didn't.'  A  man  like  that  can't  train.  I've  heard 
him  trying  to  check  some  of  his  girls  when  they  have 
been  impertinent  to  him,  but  they  don't  care  a  hang 
for  him.  Vanda  would  do  more  harm  than  good  with 
such  a  noodle." 

"Oh,  she'd  like  the  fun,  without  the  worry  and 
brutality  of  training,"  replied  Cleo.  "  It  must  be  dull 
work  for  the  children,  alone  nearly  all  day.  Le  Sale 
may  be  a  fool,  but  he  is  kind,  and  you  seem  to  be 
able  to  provide  for  them  now,  so  it  does  not  much 
matter  whether  they  '  score  big '  or  not,  and  they 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 


231 


must  be  a  dreadful  nuisance  to  drag  all  over  the 
country." 

As  she  spoke  Castelli  called  to  mind  what  a  daily 
anxiety  his  children  were.  There  ^*as  their  food  to 
order,  their  lodgings  to  pay,  their  clothes  always 
seemed  to  want  repairing  or  renewing,  and  his  land- 
lady ran  him  up  high  bills  for  "attendance,"  and 
when  he  complained  she  told  him  "children  were  a 
worrit,  and  kept  her  on  the  run  all  the  blessed  day," 
and  so  he  settled  the  accounts  with  an  oath. 

He  began  to  think  that  Cleo's  suggestion  was  a 
good  one,  and  that  the  children  would  be  better  off 
employed,  and  of  course  Le  Sale  was  not  a  man 
like  Horrox.  He  might  do  well  to  consider  the 
matter. 

"Yes,  they  are  a  bother  when  I  am  travelling," 
says  Castelli.  "I'll  think  over  what  is  best  to  be 
done  with  them  before  I  go  to  Bombay." 

"You  are  going  then  ?  "  asked  Cleo,  "  and  all  alone 
too?"  she  asked  inquiringly. 

He  looked  at  her,  their  eyes  met,  and  then  he 
spoke. 

"Would  you  care  to  come  with  me,  Cleo?"  he 
asked  her  gently.  "I  am  very  lonely,  and  if  the 
children  go  I  shall  be  quite  desolate." 

He  smiled  almost  sadly  as  he  spoke,  and  the 
pathos  in  his  voice  would  have  touched  any  heart 
with  sympathy,  but  Cleo  was  not  moved  to  compas- 
sion. 

"Yes,  I  will  go  with  you,  Castelli,  but  as  your 
wife,  or  not  at  all." 

"Then  it  must  be  not  at  all,"  replied  Castelli 
firmly.  "  I  shall  never  marry  again,  never." 

"  Well,  I  suppose  we  must  wait  until  I  can  per- 
suade you  to  marry  me,  but  I  think  you're  awfully 
shabby,"  said  Cleo  with  a  sigh. 

"  Not  at  all,"  answered  Castelli.  "I  am  just  tell- 
ing you  truth,  and  giving  you  the  choice.  You 
must  accept  me  on  my  conditions  or  give  me  up." 


232 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST. 


She  could  never  do  that ;  her  passion  for  him  was 
too  strong,  and  her  desire  for  revenge  on  the  dead 
wife  was  still  more  strong — and  perhaps  he  might 
marry  her  someday,  and  she  would  not  let  him  go. 

"  I  cannot  give  you  up,"  she  cried  passionately. 
"  I  will  go  with  you  to  Bombay,  or  anywhere  else 
in  the  world.  Do  take  me  with  you,  Castelli,"  she 
pleaded. 

He  hesitated  for  a  moment  and  then  said, — 

"Very  well,  it  is  settled;  I  will  treat  you  well, 
and  in  future  we  will  share  and  share  alike,  and  I 
must  do  my  best,  Cleo,  to  make  you  happy."  He 
stooped  and  kissed  her. 

"  I'll  help  you  all  I  can,  and  you  settle  the  children 
up  with  Le  Sale,  and  then  we  shall  be  free." 

Castelli  answered, — 

"  If  you  like,  Cleo.  I  suppose  it's  best ;  but  mind, 
Horrox  must  on  no  account  get  hold  of  them.  If 
Le  Sale  likes  to  have  them  he  may,  but  no  one  else 
shall." 

"I'll  see  to  it,  Castelli,  trust  me,"  and  she  kissed 
him  again  and  again. 

The  bargain  was  struck,  and  Cleo  began  life  again 
with  the  man  for  whom  she  had  waited  many  a  long 
year. 

"  Better  go  anyhow  if  I  can't  be  his  wife.  But  I'll 
marry  him  yet,  be  hanged  if  I  don't.  ' 

She  forgot  the  resolute  nature  of  the  man  with 
whom  she  had  to  deal,  and  that  if  she  was  deter- 
mined he  could  be  equally  so. 

A  week  later  Vanda  and  Adrian  were  apprenticed 
to  Le  Sale.  Their  few  things  had  been  packed  and 
under  Cleo's  charge  they  had  been  taken  to  England 
and  given  over  to  the  keeping  of  their  new  master. 
They  had  shown  little  regret  at  leaving  their  father. 
He  had  been  away  too  much  to  have  had  a  chance 
of  gaining  their  affections,  and  Vanda  did  not  mind 
where  she  went  so  long  as  Adrian  was  with  her. 
Added  to  this,  their  inexperience  of  the  life  before 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  ^33 

them  made  them  quite  innocent  of  any  trouble  or 
suffering1  which  might  be  their  lot  in  the  future. 

At  first  they  missed  their  freedom,  and  in  conse- 
quence they  pined  a  little.  The  air  of  London  seemed 
to  oppress  them,  and  there  were  days  when  Adrian 
cried  to  go  home  ;  but  on  the  whole  they  were  not 
unhappy.  Le  Sale  had  a  wife  and  three  little  chil- 
dren, who  were  all  nice  and  gentle  to  the  strangers, 
and  their  master  himself  was  very  patient  and  quiet 
over  their  first  lessons  on  horseback.  Vanda  rather 
enjoyed  them,  but  to  Adrian  they  were  a  perfect  tor- 
ture. He  wanted  to  paint  and  be  an  artist,  and  it 
was  with  great  difficulty  that  Vanda  persuaded  him 
that  "  all  grand  painters  knew  how  to  ride." 

"Yes,"  replied  the  child;  "but  father  said  we 
should  have  to  stay  here  until  we  were  twenty-one 
years  of  age.  I  should  be  too  old  to  be  a  painter 
then,  and  I  hate  the  circus — I  hate  it  all,"  and  the 
tears  welled  to  his  eyes  as  he  spoke. 

Vanda  did  not  reply,  but  that  evening  she  told  her 
master  how  much  her  brother  loved  drawing  and 
painting,  and  Le  Sale  patted  the  boy  kindly  on  the 
back  and  told  him  he  might  be  a  painter  some  day, 
but  that  he  must  do  his  best  to  learn  to  ride  and  then 
he  could  paint  in  his  leisure  time. 

For  Le  Sale's  apprentices  were  not  slaves.  There 
were  many  hours  in  the  day  when  their  time  was 
their  own,  and  Mrs.  Le  Sale  was  particularly 
motherly,  and  grew  very  fond  and  proud  of  Vanda, 
and  the  child  clung  to  her  with  all  the  warmth  of  a 
young  heart.  Once,  when  Le  Sale  looked  grave  be- 
cause Vanda  had  given  him  infinite  trouble  in  the 
ring,  his  wife  openly  took  the  child's  part,  saying, 
"You  cannot  expect  her  to  be  perfection,  Charles. 
She's  only  a  child,  and  has  no  mother  nor  home  to 
go  to.  I  won't  have  her  upset,  so  there  !  "  and  Le  Sale 
smiled  kindly  again  at  Vanda,  who  was  sobbing 
aloud. 

"There,  don't  cry  any  more,  child," he  said  sadly. 


234  SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST. 

"I  am  afraid  I  did  get  cross,  but  you  were  very 
naughty  indeed." 

"Yes,  yes,  I  know  I  was,"  and  fresh  sobs  almost 
choked  her. 

"Be  quiet,  do,  Charles,"  repeated  his  wife. 
"Don't  keep  on  jawing  at  the  child.  Can't  you  let 
bygones  be  bygones.  I  daresay  she  will  be  good 
to-morrow,  won't  you,  Vanda?" 

But  the  child  could  not  speak.  Her  sobs  came 
faster  and  faster,  and  then  Mrs.  Le  Sale  said, — 

"Run  off  to  bed,  there's  a  dear,  and  Adrian  shall 
bring  up  your  supper,  and  don't  cry  any  more." 
When  she  had  left  the  room  Mrs.  Le  Sale  turned  to 
her  husband  and  said  fretfully:  "I  do  wish  we 
could  do  without  apprentices.  I  hope  none  of  my 
children  will  ever  be  trained  for  the  ring.  I'd  rather 
they  stood  at  the  wash  tub  in  a  laundry  all  day.  It 
worries  me  to  death  to  see  Vanda  cry  like  that.  I 
hope  you  didn't  beat  her  down  at  the  circus." 

His  face  flushed  painfully  and  he  replied, — 

"Annie,  how  can  you  ask  me  such  a  thing?  You 
know  I  shouldn't  do  that,  but  she  must  do  as  I  tell 
her  or  she  may  meet  with  a  terrible  accident.  She 
must  not  play  tricks  with  a  horse.  I  cannot  allow 
it,"  he  said  more  firmly. 

"  Well,  I  suppose  you  know  best,"  replied  Mrs.  Le 
Sale  with  a  sigh,  for  she  almost  worshipped  her 
gentle,  delicate  husband.  "But  when  I  see  a  child 
cry  I  feel  as  if  my  chest  was  being  turned  inside  out 
I  can't  help  it,  Charles,"  added  the  good  woman. 

"You're  a  dear  kind  soul,  but  I  assure  you  Vanda 
had  no  need  to  be  so  upset.  I  am  beginning  to  fear 
she  is  not  very  strong.  She  tires  so  soon  that  some- 
times I  feel  she  ought  to  be  resting  with  you,  but  I 
must  train  her,  or  Castelli  will  be  down  on  me  like 
death." 

"You're  looking  pretty  bad  yourself,  Charles.  I 
wish  you  could  get  strong,"  and  she  looked  up 
anxiously  at  his  pale,  thin  cheeks,  and  for  the  first 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  235 

time  it  struck  her  how  much  more  delicate  he  looked 
lately,  and  a  sudden  horror  came  over  her.  "Do 
you  feel  worse,  dear  ?  "  she  asked  kindly. 

"More  tired  every  day,"  he  replied  with  a  sigh. 
"  I  could  hardly  bear  the  fatigue  of  giving  Vanda  her 
lesson  to-day/' 

"Well,  you  shall  rest  to-morrow.  Surely  someone 
at  the  circus  could  attend  to  her  for  once  ?  Anyway, 
you  shan't,"  she  added  decisively. 

He  smiled  at  her  loving  words  and  promised  to 
rest  for  just  one  day. 

Alas !  it  was  a  long-  day  of  rest,  and  only  ended 
when  death  called  the  toiler  home. 


236  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

ANOTHER  CHANGE. 

HORROX,  at  Cleo's  suggestion,  had  procured  an  en- 
gagement in  England  so  that  he  could  keep  his  eyes 
on  the  children  and  make  his  own  plans  to  get  hold 
of  them.  It  was  some  months  before  he  saw  his 
way  at  all  clear,  and  Castelli  and  Cleo  had  sailed  for 
Bombay,  and  he  was  left  to  manage  the  scheme  as 
well  as  he  could  without  Cleo's  aid. 

Wandering  down  to  the  circus  one  morning',  he 
learnt  that  Le  Sale  had  broken  a  blood-vessel  and 
had  been  conveyed  to  the  hospital,  where  he  lay 
in  a  precarious  condition.  He  hurried  thither  and 
found  that  the  authorities  of  the  consumptive  hos- 
pital allowed  their  patients  to  see  visitors  each  day 
at  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  Duly  at  this  hour 
he  presented  himself  to  the  sick  man,  and  with  many 
protestations  of  sorrow  at  his  misfortune,  he  offered 
to  undertake  his  apprentices  during  the  enforced  ab- 
sence from  his  duties.  Le  Sale,  feeling  weak  and 
ill,  readily  accepted  what  he  thought  was  a  kindly 
offer.  He  forgot,  in  his  extreme  suffering,  the  char- 
acter he  had  heard  of  Horrox  and  the  severities 
practiced  upon  those  who  came  under  his  regime 
and  the  smiling,  bland  man  standing  by  the  bedside 
did  not  remind  the  dying  artiste  of  any  such  danger 
to  his  young  apprentices. 

"If  you  will  take  their  practice  I  shall  be  very 
grateful,"  said  Le  Sale  feebly.  "They  can  live  with 
my  wife  and  go  to  you  at  stated  times.  Annie 
wouldn't  like  to  part  with  them,"  he  added  with 
great  effort. 

But  this  did  not  suit  the  plans  of  the  cruel  and 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 


237 


revengeful  Horrox,  and  he  replied  with  well-feigned 
kindness, 

"  Of  course  I'll  take  their  practice,  that  is  what  I 
came  to  offer  to  do,  but  I  think  it  would  be  a  great 
relief  to  your  wife  for  me  to  take  them  to  my  house. 
You  see  it  will  save  her  much  expense  now  you  can- 
not work.  It  costs  a  sight  to  feed  two  hearty  chil- 
dren. If  they  come  to  me  there  is  an  end  to  that, 
until  you  are  strong  again." 

Horrox  knew  too  well  that  Le  Sale  would  never 
be  well  ;  but  to  gain  his  dastardly  ends  he  held  out 
the  hope. 

"Yes,  I  forgot  Annie  has  not  much  money.  It 
will  be  best  for  you  to  take  them  for  a  bit,  until 
I  am  about  again  ;  but  I  am  afraid  Annie  won't  like 
them  going,"  he  answered  in  a  tired  voice. 

"I  think  she  will  see  it  is  best,"  replied  Horrox 
curtly. 

The  sick  man  lay  back  on  his  pillows,  gasping 
for  breath,  and  did  not  reply  for  a  moment,  and 
then  he  said, — 

"I  daresay  she  will.  Two  mouths  are  a  great 
deal  to  fill,  and  I  can  earn  nothing  now." 

"Very  well,  then,  I  will  take  them  over,  but  you 
had  better  just  write  a  few  lines  telling  your  wife 
they  are  to  be  given  up  to  me  until  such  times  as 
you  can  undertake  them  again." 

Horrox,  as  he  spoke,  drew  a  sheet  of  paper  and  a 
pencil  from  his  pocket,  and  placing  the  materials  as 
handy  as  he  could  for  Le  Sale  to  write,  he  waited 
anxiously  for  the  letter  which  would  empower  him 
to  take  possession  of  the  two  hapless  children. 

Tremblingly  Le  Sale  held  the  pencil  and  tried  to 
write  the  words  which  Horrox  dictated,  but  he  was 
powerless  to  do  so,  and  said  feebly, — 

"I  am  afraid  I  cannot  write — all  my  strength  has 
gone,"  he  said  sadly. 

"Well,  suppose  I  write  it  and  you  sign  it,"  said 
Horrox  cheerfully. 


238  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

Le  Sale  nodded  gratefully,  and  then  Horrox 
wrote  : — 

"It  is  my  wish  that  Vanda  and  Adrian  Castelli, 
apprenticed  to  me  until  they  become  of  age,  shall  be 
handed  over  to  James  Charles  Horrox,  to  be  trained 
by  him  as  acrobats  and  riders,  until  such  time  as  I 
can  undertake  them,  when  they  shall  be  given  up  at 
my  demand,  and  all  claims  of  James  Charles  Horrox 
to  the  children's  services  shall  be  at  once  forfeited." 

He  laid  down  the  pencil  and  read  the  document 
over  to  Le  Sale,  who  said  quietly, — 

"Yes,  that  seems  fair  enough.     I  am  satisfied." 

"Now,  you'll  try  and  sign  it,  and  then  I  will," 
replied  Horrox  kindly. 

After  many  attempts  Le  Sale  managed  to  put  his 
name  in  faint  letters  to  the  agreement,  and  then 
below  it  Horrox  wrote  his,  in  a  fine  bold  hand, 
agreeing  to  take  over  the  apprentices — a  sad  contrast 
to  the  quivering,  shaky  signature  above. 

"  Now,  you  need  not  worry  about  them  whilst  you 
are  ill,"  said  Horrox  gently  ;  "  they  will  be  all  right 
with  me." 

"You  must  take  care  of  Vanda,"  whispered  Le 
Sale,  for  the  business  anxiety  had  made  him  feel  ex- 
hausted. "Vanda  isn't  very  strong,  don't  forget 
that,"  he  said  pleadingly,  and  then  after  a  pause  he 
continued  :  "  the  last  evening  I  was  at  home  she  cried 
dreadfully,  I  remember  that,  and  when  she  came 
here  with  Annie  to  see  me  she — looked  white  and 
ill." 

He  could  say  no  more,  and  Horrox  replied, — 

"I  will  take  care  of  her,  Le  Sale.  It  wouldn't 
pay  to  do  otherwise." 

At  that  moment  a  nurse  came  up  to  Horrox  and 
explained  that  his  presence  was  disturbing  her 
patient  and  that  he  must  be  good  enough  to  leave 
him  to  rest. 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  239 

Horrox  was  only  too  glad  to  follow  her  wishes. 
He  had  got  all  he  could  from  the  sick  man,  and  now 
he  did  not  care  how  soon  the  interview  was  ended. 
The  nurse  followed  him  towards  the  door  of  the  long 
ward,  and  then  Horrox  asked  her  what  chance  there 
was  of  the  recovery  of  Le  Sale. 

"None  at  all,"  she  answered  promptly  ;  "it's  only 
a  matter  of  days.  He  is  much  weaker  than  he 
was." 

"I  am  sorry/'  said  Horrox  cutely.  "The  poor 
fellow  and  I  belong  to  the  same  profession,  and  we 
have  met  off  and  on  for  many  a  year." 

The  nurse  expressed  no  sympathy.  Death  to  her 
was  nothing  more  than  an  event  which  occurred 
daily — merely  "  part  of  the  business  ''  for  which  she 
had  been  trained. 

Love  and  commiseration  are  not  to  be  found  in 
hospital  wards. 

True  all  that  human  skill  can  devise  is  done  for 
those  who  lie  at  death's  door — true  that  nurses  and 
doctors  "do  their  duty." 

Can  one  imagine  it  quite  possible  that  tender- 
hearted women  could  remain  day  after  day  within 
sound  of  the  moans  wrung  from  the  agonised  suffer- 
ings of  their  fellows,  and  witness  sights  which  make 
the  blood  run  cold  in  the  veins  and  the  heart  sick 
with  pain  ? 

After  leaving  the  hospital  Horrox  wended  his  way 
to  Lambeth  to  claim  his  victims,  but  he  met  with  the 
greatest  opposition  from  Le  Sale's  irate  wife. 

"My  husband  sent  you  here  for  Vanda  and 
Adrian  ?  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it,  so  there !  " 
she  replied  in  answer  to  Horrox's  demand  for  the 
children.  "You  think,  because  my  husband's  ill, 
you  can  come  here  and  worry  a  forlorn  woman,  but 
you've  reckoned  on  the  wrong  card,  my  man. 
You've  no  call  to  come  here  at  all,  so  there  ! "  she 
panted. 

"I've  come  for  the  brats,  and  I  mean   to   have 


240  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

them.  I  hold  your  husband's  authority  to  take  them 
with  me  at  once,"  replied  Horrox  severely. 

"  He  hasn't  got  any  authority  now  he's  laid  low, 
and  you'll  have  to  leave  as  you  came  without  'em. 
So  just  take  yourself  off  my  doorstep  ;  I've  got  quite 
enough  worry  without  cleaning  it  twice  a  day. 
That's  the  worst  of  being  ground  floor  lodger,  you've 
got  to  do  the  cleaning  downstairs." 

Horrox  took  no  notice  of  these  remarks,  but  he 
said  more  sternly, — 

"My  good  woman,  I've  come  for  Vanda  and 
Adrian  Castelli,  and  I  shall  not  leave  without  them." 

"Then  you'll  stand  there  till  you  die.  They  are 
not  yours  to  have,  and  as  to  coming  from  my  hus- 
band, that's  all  gibberish." 

Mrs.  Le  Sale  had  grown  excited,  and  her  voice  in 
consequence  had  risen  to  a  high  pitch,  and  much  to 
Horrox's  annoyance  a  small  and  curious  group  had 
collected  to  "hear  the  fun."  The  dairyman  had 
ceased  his  cry  of  "Milk  ho  1 "  so  that  he  could  stand 
to  listen  ;  an  errand  boy  whistling  "She  lives  in 
Camden  Town  "  paused  in  his  melody,  and  putting 
his  basket  on  the  pavement,  leant  against  the  iron 
railings  to  see  what  was  "up."  Suddenly  he  caught 
sight  of  a  "pal,"  and  he  yelled  out,  "Come  and  see 
the  old  woman  a-going  it,"  and  in  answer  to  the  in- 
vitation a  telegraph  boy  sauntered  up,  and  forgetful 
of  the  importance  of  the  missives  stowed  in  his  little 
black  pouch,  he  took  his  stand  by  the  side  of  his 
companion. 

"  What's  the  row  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  It's  a  lodger  that  hasn't  paid  his  rent,  I  guess," 
said  the  errand  boy  with  glee. 

"  I  bet  it's  a  broker  as  can't  get  in,"  answered  the 
other. 

These  and  other  remarks  at  last  reached  the  ears 
of  Mrs.  Le  Sale,  and  she  exclaimed  to  her  visitor, — 

"Come  in,  do;  can't  you  see  how  we  are  being 
stared  at?  We  shall  have  the  police  here  directly, 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  241 

or  the  fire  engines,  to  see  what's  the  matter.  Wipe 
your  shoes,"  she  continued,  "  and  look  where  you 
are  going,  the  passage  isn't  over  light." 

Horrox  followed  her  into  a  small  but  well  furnished 
sitting-room,  and  when  he  was  seated  she  said, — 

"You  can't  see  the  children.  Vanda  is  lying 
down,  she  isn't  strong,  and  Adrian  is  painting — and 
I  shan't  disturb  them,"  she  added  defiantly,  look- 
ing at  his  cold,  cruel  face  with  distrust. 

"Very  well,  madam,  then  I  shall  call  in  the  police 
to  assist  me.  I  hold  a  paper  here  which  gives  me 
absolute  control  over  your  husband's  apprentices 
until  he  is  sufficiently  recovered  to  continue  their 
training." 

"Let  me  see  it,"  she  asked  with  determination. 

He  pulled  it  from  his  pocket  and  showed  her  the 
signature  of  her  husband,  and  then  he  added, — 

"  Can  you  deny  my  claim  now?  The  best  thing 
you  can  do  is  to  get  the  children  ready,  and  their 
clothes,  and  in  half-an-hour  I  shall  take  them  ready 
or  not  ready,  or  call  the  police." 

Horrox  had  no  intention  of  calling  in  any  aid,  or 
to  call  attention  in  any  way,  his  scheme  and  his 
document  was  far  too  shaky  to  do  that.  But  Mrs. 
Le  Sale  did  not  know  that,  and  after  seeing  her 
husband's  signature  she  collapsed  entirely. 

"  He  always  knows  best,"  she  cried,  the  tears  in 
her  eyes,  "but  it's  like  parting  with  my  own.  I 
don't  know  what  I  shall  do  without  Vanda,  she  is  so 
useful  just  now.  Couldn't  they  sleep  at  home,  sir? 
You  could  have  them  all  day,"  she  pleaded. 

"They  are  going  to  Selchester  with  me  this  even- 
ing, so  once  more  let  me  remind  you  there  is  no 
time  to  lose,"  said  Horrox  firmly. 

Stifling  her  sobs,  yet  anxious  to  carry  out  her  hus- 
band's wishes,  she  left  the  room  and  told  the  children 
of  the  sudden  change  in  the  arrangements.  Both  of 
them  cried  most  bitterly,  but  Mrs.  Le  Sale  told  them 
how  much  her  husband  wanted  them  to  go,  and  that 
16 


242  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

they  should  come  back  directly  he  was  well.  "You 
may  only  be  away  about  a  month  after  ail."  Thus 
reassured  the  children  prepared  for  their  journey,  and 
soon  they  were  borne  away  from  the  happiest  home 
they  had  ever  known,  and  their  lot  in  future  was  to  be 
left  to  the  tender  mercies  of  a  brutal  master. 

"Revenge  at  last,"  he  muttered  with  an  oath. 
"They  are  mine." 

Later  a  telegram -was  sent  to  Bombay.  It  bore 
one  word  :  "Settled." 

Cleo  was  standing  talking  to  Castelli  when  it 
reached  her. 

She  knew  the  meaning  too  well,  but  she  told 
Castelli  it  came  from  her  English  agent,  and  he 
believed  her  then. 

A  week  later  Charles  Le  Sale  died,  after  making 
his  wife  promise  that  his  children  should,  not  follow 
his  profession.  This  she  gladly  acceded  to,  and 
then  she  was  left  to  struggle  on  as  she  could. 

Once,  now  and  then,  she  grew  anxious  about 
Vanda  and  Adrian,  and  thought  she  would  write  to 
Castelli  and  tell  him  who  had  taken  them  from  her 
husband  ;  but  one  thing  after  another  delayed  her 
kindly  intention,  and  it  was  a  very  long  time  before 
Castelli  knew  his  children's  fate. 

Alas  !  for  them  earthly  happiness  was  over,  and 
joy  was  turned  to  mourning. 

Is  it  not  always  so  ? 

Why  should  hell,  the  oft  favourite  theme  of  poets 
and  painters,  be  portrayed  beyond  the  limits  of  this 
visible  universe  !  Why  should  its  terrors,  its  thun- 
ders, its  curling  flames,  its  forked  lightning,  find 
footing  on  speculation,  and  Fancy  be  used  to  depict 
pain  of  soul  and  body,  when  hell  is  on  the  earth  ? 
Can  it  be  necessary  to  go  to  unknown  realms  to  find 
a  hell,  where  the  future  of  the  sinner  is  to  be  por- 
tioned out  according  to  the  manifold  sins  committed? 
For  does  it  not  exist  around  us  in  various  sections 
and  forms,  and  are  not  Alecto,  Megaera,  and  Tysi- 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST.  243 

phine,  the  supposed  fiends  of  hell,  around  us  in  other 
and  natural  forms,  making  our  streets  the  veritable 
paths  of  hell  for  the  rake  and  the  giglot,  the  mur- 
derer and  the  thief  ?  Is  it  not  the  hell  of  earth  which 
drives  women  to  the  dark,  cold  river,  and  men  to  the 
cursed  drink,  and  daughters  to  the  lair  of  the 
destroyer?  Is  there  not  hell  for  the  men,  women, 
and  children  in  our  slums,  in  the  bitter  poverty,  the 
cold  and  terrible  sufferings  of  sickness  and  death  ?  Are 
not  the  mysteries  of  hell  at  work  when  little  children 
are  murdered,  beaten  and  tortured  by  frenzied  and 
drunken  men  of  the  earth,  or  torn  from  loving  hands 
and  hurled  into  the  great  chaos  which  makes  up  life, 
so  that  their  youth  and  beauty  may  pander  to  the 
amusement  of  the  morbid  and  the  selfish  ?  For  them, 
as  for  others,  hell  is  everywhere  on  earth.  Its  exist- 
ence lies  in  the  mental  and  physical  agony  which 
must  be  the  lot  of  all. 

Surely  there  is  no  need  to  paint  another  hell,  full 
of  mythical  sorrows,  with  awful  and  everlasting 
punishments  and  pain  ! 

There  can  be  but  one  hell,  and  that  has  its  abode 
on  earth,  casting  amongst  the  people  terrible  vices, 
the  scourge  of  sickness,  the  agonies  of  death,  the 
cruelties  of  separation,  the  hardships  of  poverty, 
broken  hearts,  discarded  love,  disappointed  hopes, 
and  ruined  lives. 

If  these  comprise  not  hell,  what  does  ? 

Vanda  and  Adrian  soon  realised  the  horrors  of 
what  was  before  them,  and  Horrox  made  no  secret 
of  his  brutality. 

The  first  night  he  made  Vanda  turn  out  her  box, 
and  then  was  discovered  Adrian's  drawings,  in  a 
small  packet. 

"  What's  that?  "  demanded  Horrox  fiercely. 

"  Adrian's  sketches,"  replied  the  child  timidly. 

"  Give  them  to  me." 

Vanda  hesitated  for  a  moment. 

"  Do  you  hear  me  ?  "  he  thundered. 


244  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

She  handed  him  the  treasures,  so  dear  to  her  heart, 
without  speaking-. 

He  unwrapped  them,  and  the  paper  fell  to  the 
ground,  and  then  he  quietly  proceeded  to  tear  them 
across. 

"  Don't — please  don't  do  that,  they  belong  to 
Adrian — don't  tear  them,"  she  pleaded,  quivering 
with  excitement. 

"They  belong  to  me  now,"  he  replied  with  an 
awful  oath,  "and  you'll  both  have  something  else 
to  think  of  now  than  a  lot  of  damned  daubs,  and 
so  here  goes,"  and  he  ruthlessly  tore  the  rest 
asunder. 

Vanda  burst  into  tears ;  she  was  speechless  with 
fear  and  astonishment. 

"  Now,  if  I  ever  catch  your  brother  daubing  here 
I'll  thrash  him  until  he  can't  stand,  or  you — it  doesn't 
matter  a  curse  to  me  which  it  is — and  give  me  that 
paint-box  and  those  books,"  said  Horrox,  looking 
down  into  the  box. 

Vanda  did  as  she  was  told,  and  then  she  ventured 
to  plead  for  her  brother. 

"  Adrian  is  so  fond  of  painting.  Le  Sale  said  he 
would  make  an  artist  some  day.  Surely  he  may  paint 
when  his  work  is  over." 

Horrox  did  not  reply,  excepting  by  an  oath,  and 
giving  Vanda  a  heavy  blow. 

She  reeled  for  a  moment  and  then  fell  to  the  ground. 
She  had  fainted. 

Nothing  daunted,  Horrox  stood  by  until  she  had 
recovered  consciousness,  and  then  he  said, — 

"  I  shall  paint  you  black  and  blue  if  you  give  me 
any  of  your  cheek — get  off  to  bed." 

Vanda  and  Adrian  shared  one  room,  and  very 
miserable  it  was  after  the  clean  apartment  allotted 
to  them  at  the  Le  Sale's  ;  but  they  were  too  miserable 
to  care  much,  and  it  was  the  small  hours  of  the 
morning  before  they  cried  themselves  to  sleep. 

Horrox  had  a  permanent  home  near  Selchester, 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST.  245 

and  in  an  outhouse  at  the  back  he  conducted  all  his 
training.  It  was  there  that  his  hapless  apprentices 
had  to  go  through  their  bending,  splits,  flip-flaps,  and 
other  feats  enough  to  cause  injury  and  strains  to  the 
strongest  children,  for  terrible  is  the  nervous  tension 
necessary  to  perform  them  accurately  and  gracefully. 
Locked  in  this  building,  the  absolute  property  of  the 
master,  what  outside  help  could  reach  his  unfortunate 
victims?  Safe  from  public  inspection,  safe  from  the 
intrusion  of  any,  the  training  goes  on  to  this  day 
without  let  or  hindrance. 

The  secrets  of  the  Inquisition  were  never  more 
carefully  guarded  than  are  the  practice  hours  of 
children  preparing  tor  the  "show"  business,  where 
they  work  continually  until  they  are  sufficiently 
advanced  for  public  exhibition. 

To  this  room  Vanda  and  Adrian  were  taken  the 
day  after  their  arrival,  and  Horrox  began  his  brutal 
"  instructions"  for  the  contortion  business,  the  most 
painful  and  degrading  avocation  of  all,  the  training 
for  which  makes  modesty  die  for  ever. 

Oh  !  the  labour  and  pain  of  these  feats,  which  the 
public  applaud,  cost  the  weary  little  children  and  the 
languid  growing  girl,  whose  tender  frame  has  to 
assume  positions  which  are  absolutely  contrary  to 
those  for  which  nature  has  fitted  her. 

It  is  time  that  those  who  enjoy  such  performances 
should  realise  this,  and  understand  what  has  been 
endured  for  their  selfish  edification. 

But  the  multitude  have  taken  no  counsel  as  yet, 
and  the  wisdom  which  would  prevent  young  children 
from  performing  such  hazardous  feats  is  still  want- 
ing ;  it  will  be  found  some  day,  and  then  the  dark 
shadows  will  pass  from  girlish  hearts,  and  child 
labour  for  the  amusement  of  the  people  will  cease 
for  ever. 

But  the  time  is  not  yet 


246  SLAVES   OF  THE  SAWDUST. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

BEHIND   THE   SCENES. 

So  strong  was  the  spirit  of  revenge  implanted  in 
Horrox  that  he  was  ready  to  inflict  any  punishment 
on  the  children  to  exact  satisfaction,  under  a  sense 
of  injury  which  he  felt  sure  their  mother  had  been 
the  means  of  doing  him.  His  anxiety  to  return  evil 
for  evil  had  grown  with  years,  and  now  his  oppor- 
tunity had  come  to  wreak  vengeance  upon  Vanda 
and  Adrian.  In  his  malignant  spirit  he  forgot  that 
kindness  might  make  them  "score  big,"  and  that 
they  might  prove  a  gold  mine  to  him,  for  both  were 
gifted  with  refined  beauty,  but  for  the  first  time  in  his 
life  he  did  not  care  whether  his  apprentices  survived 
their  severe  training  or  not. 

Revenge,  for  once,  was  sweeter  than  great  gain. 

Is  it  not  true,  as  has  often  been  remarked,  that 
Providence  seems  to  darken  the  understanding  and 
to  depress  the  spirits  of  criminals,  and  hence  the 
origin  of  misery  and  depravity  ?  And  was  not 
Horrox's  a  hideous  crime,  which  deserved  the  great- 
est punishment  that  earthly  judges  can  inflict  ? 
Should  they  not  say  with  Cicero,  "  perish  that  power 
which  has  been  obtained  by  evil  means,  retained  by 
similar  practices,  and  which  is  administered  as  badly 
as  it  was  acquired  ?" 

But  the  law  does  not  help  weak  children  when 
training  for  the  people's  amusement,  because  it. 
cannot  penetrate  into  the  haunts  where  the  children 
undergo  their  suffering.  The  masters  take  care  of 
that,  and  smile  in  secret  at  the  protection  which  their 
hapless  apprentices  could  rightfully  claim. 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST.  247 

Who  is  there  to  hear  the  stifled  sobs  of  suffering  ? 
Who  can  catch  the  plaintive  voices  crying  for  mercy, 
and  pleading  vainly  to  the  taskmaster?  Who  can 
save  the  children  from  the  cuts  of  the  thin  white 
thong. 

As  yet,  no  one.  For  alone  and  in  secret  the  deeds 
are  done,  so  that  the  people  may  rejoice  and  pass 
pleasant  hours  in  watching  dangerous  and  degrading 
feats  ;  from  which  they  would  guard  their  own  pre- 
cious, petted  offspring,  who  cry  because  they  have 
every  selfish  whim  gratified,  and  fret  because  they 
cannot  think  of  some  further  luxury. 

True  there  is  a  law  for  the  protection  of  children 
in  the  slums  and  alleys,  in  the  baby  farm,  iiv 
orphanages  and  public  schools  —  true  a  licence 
must  be  forthcoming  before  a  child  can  perform  in 
a  play. 

But  where  is  the  law  which  protects  the  children 
during  the  months  of  training  which  is  conducted  in 
private  ?  Surely  a  public  performance  is  nothing 
compared  to  the  hardships  of  training?  Yet  there  is 
protection  for  one,  but  not  for  the  other.  The  law 
offers  its  aid  when  the  evil  has  been  accomplished. 

But  there  is  One  above,  says  the  Christian,  who 
guards  little  children  from  harm? 

In  luxurious  homes,  yes. 

But  why  is  mercy  meted  out  to  some  and  not  to 
all  !  Why  should  shame  and  labour  fall  with  mer- 
ciless hands  upon  two  sinless  children  ?  And  why 
does  it  not  come  to  the  lot  of  those  who  to  this  day 
make  pleasure  for  the  people  ? 

Is  it  fair  that  some  children  should  labour  and 
suffer  that  others  may  sit  and  enjoy  ? 

The  weary  ones  could  cry  with  Codrus,  who  had 
served  God  all  his  life,  when  he  found  his  beautiful 
library  at  the  Palace  in  Forli  razed  to  the  ground, 
with  all  his  valuable  treasures,  his  speeches,  letters, 
and  poems  gone  to  ashes:  "Christ  Jesus,  what 
mighty  crime  have  I  committed  ?  Whom  of  your 


24 8  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

followers  have  I  ever  injured  that  you  thus  rage  with 
inexpiable  hatred  against  me?" 

From  the  sawdust  that  expression  of  pain  and 
distress  should  rise,  for  have  not  the  children  the 
right  to  ask  where  is  the  God  which  Codrus  served  ? 
And  are  the  joys  of  heaven,  His  mercy,  and  infinite 
power  reserved  only  for  those  who  are  rich  in  this 
word? 

What  reply  can  these  placid  Christians  give  to  the 
overworked,  wan,  sickly  girls  who  pander  to  their 
amusements  ?  The  Church  of  God  is  largely  repre- 
sented at  all  circus  performances. 

But  those  who  have  a  knowledge  of  spiritual 
things  are  discreet,  and  silence  reigns  where  the 
voices  should  rise  with  one  accord,  crying  :  "God  is 
everywhere.  His  love  shall  shield  you,  His  strong 
arm  shall  protect  you,  His  peace  must  rest  upon  you 
now  and  for  ever." 

But  instead  there  is  an  awkward  pause — a  cessa- 
tion of  voices,  for  they  dare  not  give  that  answer  to 
the  "slaves  of  the  sawdust."  Alas,  alas!  though 
such  is  truth  as  taught  to  the  rich,  does  not  the 
existence  of  the  evil  prove  the  fallacy  of  the  teaching  ? 

There  is  very  little  mercy  shown  to-day  in  the 
methods  pursued  by  some  of  the  masters  behind  the 
scenes,  and  Vanda  and  Adrian  received  none. 

Friendless  and  alone,  in  the  hands  of  a  brute  who 
would  disgrace  any  respectable  circus,  the  children 
underwent  the  greatest  pain  and  degradation.  Attired 
in  tight-fitting  "fleshings"  only,  Vanda  and  Adrian 
were  made  to  practice  all  the  indignities  necessary 
for  those  who  become  contortionists.  Their  limbs 
had  to  be  made  supple  by  the  most  cruel  and  artifi- 
cial means,  and  to  these  measures  Horrox  for  spite 
was  delighted  to  resort. 

One  morning,  when  he  had  forced  Vanda  into  a 
most  unnatural  position,  she  fainted  away  from  the 
effect  of  the  intense  torture  it  caused  her. 

She  lay  on  the  hard  floor  deathly  white,  and  only 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  249 

the  slight  heaving  of  her  chest  showed  she  still 
breathed. 

Horrox  took  no  notice  of  her.  He  knew  perfectly 
well  that  her  age  made  it  more  painful  for  her  to 
undergo  the  straining  of  limbs  and  back  than  if  she 
had  been  younger  and  therefore  more  pliable.  At 
the  same  time  he  was  aware  that  suppleness  and 
grace  for  the  trapeze  could  be  acquired  no  other  way, 
and  therefore  it  must  be  done,  even  if  the  agony  of 
distorting  her  limbs  made  her  suffer  the  greatest 
possible  pain  that  could  be  borne.  He  knew  she 
would  faint  every  time  he  put  her  through  the 
"splits,"  but  it  did  not  disconcert  him  in  the  least, 
and  he  turned  his  attention  to  the  boy. 

"  Now  then,  you  young  rascal,  it's  your  turn,"  he 
cried  fiercely. 

"  Look  at  Van  da,  she  must  be  dead,"  said  a  weak 
voice,  whilst  the  tears  coursed  down  his  wan  cheeks. 
"  Vanda,  Vanda  !  "  he  repeated  ;  "  dear  Vanda,  do 
speak  to  me  !  '  he  sobbed. 

A  stinging  cut  came  from  the  white  thong,  causing 
him  intolerable  pain. 

"  There  !  take  that  for  your  answer,"  he  said  with 
an  awful  oath  :  "  and  now  to  your  work — quick,  or 
you'll  get  another  stroke." 

Adrian  recommenced  his  performance  of  walking 
on  his  hands  and  feet  with  his  body  bent  backwards, 
the  pain  of  the  horrible  distortion  making  great  beads 
of  perspiration  break  out  on  his  forehead,  saturating 
the  curly  locks  which  had  been  so  dear  to  his  mother's 
heart. 

"  Oh  !  you've  come  to  your  senses  again,  have 
you,  you  confounded  fool  !  Now,  we'll  go  at  it 
again,"  he  said  cruelly,  utterly  regardless  of  the  girl's 
white  face.  He  took  hold  of  her  roughly  ;  she  was 
cold,  and  trembled  very  much.  But  Horrox  took  no 
notice  beyond  remarking  that  "  he  would  give  her 
something  to  make  her  hot  if  she  didn't  leave  off." 

"  I   cannot   do   the   '  splits  '   again    to-day,"    she 


250 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 


said  with  anguish  in  her  voice  ;  "  the  pain  is  terrible."* 

"  Oh,  won't  you  come?  Well,  here  goes, "and  he 
placed  her  in  position,  extending  her  legs  sideways 
until  she  was  sitting  on  the  flodr.  He  then  put  a 
powerful  hand  on  each  shoulder,  and  kept  her  firmly 
to  the  ground,  regardless  of  her  cries  to  him  to  let 
her  move,  if  but  "  for  one  moment." 

But  he  was  relentless,  until  her  head  fell  forwards 
on  her  chest ;  she  had  fainted  again. 

"  You  cursed  fool !  "  he  hissed,  "  I  will  break 
every  bone  in  your  body  if  you  don't  leave  off  this 
game." 

But  Vanda  never  heard  his  threat,  or  the  volley  of 
oaths  which  fell  from  his  lips.  She  only  moaned 
feebly  once  or  twice,  when  Horrox  roughly  put  her 
into  her  natural  shape  again.  Adrian  meanwhile 
stood  petrified  at  his  sister's  condition,  but  not  daring 
to  speak  one  word  on  her  behalf. 

Vanda  continued  so  long  in  her  faint  that  Horrox 
at  last  became  alarmed,  and  he  hurried  from  the 
room  to  fetch  a  glass  of  water.  The  very  moment 
he  was  gone  Adrian  rushed  to  where  his  sister  lay 
motionless,  and  throwing  himself  down  in  a  par- 
oxysm of  grief,  he  cried, — 

"  Vanda,  Vanda,  dear,  dear  Vanda,  do  look  at 
me  !  Open  your  eyes,  Vanda  !  Don't  you  know  I 
am  Adrian  ?  Do,  do  speak  to  me  !  "  he  pleaded,  and 
the  child's  hot  tears  fell  on  the  pink  cotton  fleshings, 
leaving  great  spots  here  and  there. 

But  Vanda  neither  moved  nor  spoke,  her  lips 
uttered  no  words  of  love  to  her  distressed  brother. 

With  a  grasp  of  despair  he  flung  his  arms  around 

*  However  kind  the  master,  the  pain  suffered  by  those  girls  un- 
dergoing training  for  the  contortionist's  business  is  simply  torture, 
and  a  disgrace  to  Christian  England.  The  "boneless"  man  or 
woman  has  had  to  suffer  hell  upon  earth  before  the  wrenching  of 
the  muscles  is  complete  and  they  are  fitted  to  accomplish  their  de- 
grading feats.  "Splits"  for  women  should  be  prohibited  by  law 
from  exhibition  in  public  amusements. 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WD UST.  j 5 1 

her,  and  shook  her  gently,  but  still  she  showed  no 
signs  of  returning  consciousness,  and  when  Horrox 
returned  he  found  Adrian  sobbing  loudly  and  bending 
over  his  sister,  distraught  with  grief. 

"  Get  up,  you  howling  fool !  "  said  Horrox,  grasp- 
ing the  child  and  flinging  him  away  from  the  prostrate 
form,  uttering  a  fearful  oath  as  he  did  so. 

With  no  gentle  hand  he  poured  the  cool  water 
down  Vanda's  throat,  and  at  last  she  opened  her  eyes 
and  a  faint  colour  returned  to  the  haggard  cheeks. 

For  a  moment  she  forgot  where  she  was,  and  she 
just  murmured, — 

"  I  thought  it  was  Adrian  standing  by  me." 

"  Then,  you  see,  it's  me,  so  just  get  up,"  he  said 
roughly.  She  rose  with  an  effort,  and  he  placed  her 
in  a  chair.  "  Sit  there  till  I  am  ready  for  you." 

The  child  obeyed,  too  ill  and  weary  to  be  afraid 
of  what  was  to  come,  and  then  Horrox  went  up  to 
Adrian  and  demanded  fiercely, — 

"  What  were  you  blubbering  about  just  now,  mak- 
ing a  fool  of  yourself — eh,  answer  me?  Do  you 
hear  me  ?  "  he  roared  as  the  child  ventured  no  reply. 

"  I  was  so  sorry  for  Vanda,  sir ;  she  will  die  here, 
I  am  sure, "and  he  sobbed  again. 

"Sorry,  were  you,  now  I'll  make  you  sorry  for 
yourself." 

And  he  took  the  boy  by  the  arm  and  dragged  him 
to  the  table  where  the  white-thonged  whip  lay,  and 
then  he  applied  it  mercilessly  about  the  child's  body, 
until  the  youthful  crimson  blood  came  through  the 
"  fleshings,"  leaving  hideous  marks  on  the  pale  pink 
covering.  Vanda  closed  her  eyes.  She  could  not 
bear  the  sickening  sight.  His  suppressed  moans  of 
pain  struck  a  chill  to  her  heart.  She  did  not  want 
to  see  the  blows  descend.* 

"  There,  now,"  said  Horrox  in  a  satisfied  tone, 
laying  down  the  whip,  "  that's  what  you  get  for 

*  The  incident  of  the  beating  until  the  blood  came  is  no  highly 
coloured  imagination,  but  a  positive  fact. 


252  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

interfering  and  whining  like  a  puppy,  as  you  are," 
he  said  with  contempt. 

The  child  sobbed,  he  was  too  weak  to  speak. 

"  Now,  then,  both  of  you,  com'e  along,"  called 
Horrox,  walking  towards  the  bars,  and  then  Vanda 
dared  to  protest. 

"  My  hands  are  too  sore  for  that  to-day,"  she  re- 
plied gently,  looking  down  at  the  large  wounds  across 
the  palms,  caused  by  the  broken  blisters  which  had 
weeks  before  been  raised  by  the  friction  of  the 
powdered  resin  on  her  hands  and  on  the  bars.  These 
sores  take  weeks  and  weeks  to  heal  ;  but  Vanda 
suffered  no  worse  than  the  rest  in  her  initiate. 

"  You  must  jolly  well  get  used  to  that,"  replied 
Horrox.  "  No  nonsense,  begin  at  once." 

Delay  and  protestations  were  alike  unavailing,  and 
the  children  began  their  practice.  Very  soon  the 
bar  bore  traces  of  blood.  Van  da's  sores  had  been 
broken  again  ;  but  Horrox  took  no  heed  of  the  in- 
cident, and  he  relieved  her  no  sooner  from  her 
arduous  task.* 

And  so  the  long  days  dragged  on,  the  night  came, 
but  the  children  dreading  the  dawn,  because  another 
awful  day  must  be  lived  through.  One  morning, 
during  the  hurried  breakfast  hour,  Vanda  ventured 
to  ask  Horrox  when  they  were  likely  to  return  to 
their  old  master  Le  Sale.  The  hope  of  that  had  kept 
up  their  spirits  during  many  a  saddened  day. 

"  He's  dead  weeks  ago,"  replied  Horrox  with  a 
smile.  "  You  belong  to  me  now,  my  lady,"  he  said 
with  a  sneer. 

Vanda  turned  very  white ;  she  gave  Adrian  one 
hopeless  look  of  despair,  which  Horrox  noticed  at 
once. 

"  Ah,  I  don't  spoil  you  like  Le  Sale  did,  do  I?  "he 
asked  meaningly. 

*  A  celebrated  lady  gymnast  has  told  the  author  that  the  bars  of 
the  trapeze  have  blood  stains  upon  them,  until  the  hands  of  the 
young  performers  are  hardened. 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST. 


253 


"  He  was  very  kind  to  us,"  replied  Vanda  quietly, 

"  Made  regular  noodles  of  you  both,"  said  Horrox  ; 
"  but  we  don't  go  in  for  that  sort  of  cant  here,  do  we  ?  " 

Vanda  gulped  down  a  lump  which  had  risen  in 
her  throat  and  said, — 

"  I  should  like  to  write  to  Mrs.  Le  Sale,  if  I  may  ?" 
she  pleaded. 

"  No,  you  may  not,  so  there  is  an  end  to  that,"  he 
replied  curtly. 

Vanda  said  nothing,  but  she  determined  to  write 
a  few  lines,  and  trust  to  some  chance  of  posting  them. 
She  would  not  give  the  address  for  fear  Mrs.  Le  Sale 
had  left  the  old  home  and  the  letter  should  be  returned, 
and  then  the  fury  of  Horrox  would  fall  upon  her,  and 
some  dreadful  punishment  would  sure  to  be  her  lot 
for  disobedience  to  his  orders. 

Adrian  and  Vanda  talked  over  plan  after  plan  in 
whispers  when  they  went  to  bed.  At  last  Vanda  de- 
termined to  try  if  the  dirty  little  "  slavey  "  of  their 
lodgings  would  post  her  letter  and  hold  her  tongue, 
but  the  difficulty  was  to  find  out  whether  she  was 
loyal  or  not 

Sally  had  been  taken  from  a  London  workhouse, 
and  had  unfortunately  fallen  into  the  hands  of  a  hard, 
selfish  old  woman  who  let  her  rooms  to  professionals. 
Two  years  before  she  had  come  across  Horrox,  and 
he  had  decided  to  make  her  house  his  headquarters, 
so  that  she  withdrew  her  advertisement  in  the  papers 
under  the  heading  of  "  professional  apartments,"  and 
settled  down,  prepared  to  take  her  rent  and  mind  her 
own  business,  and  she  took  good  care  that  Sally 
should  do  the  same. 

"  You  talk  to  my  lodgers,  and  I'll  take  the  skin  off 
your  back." 

This  suited  Horrox:,  for  there  was  no  chance  of 
his  apprentices  finding  sympathy  from  landlady  or 
drudge. 

But  Sally  Pike  had  a  heart ;  the  workhouse  schools 
had  not  quite  robbed  her  of  that,  and  although  she 


254 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 


was  only  known  as  one  hundred  and  two,  and  sent 
out  into  the  streets  with  the  uniform  which  stamps 
children  as  homeless  and  poverty-stricken,  she  re- 
tained an  affectionate  disposition  if  anyone  cared  to 
win  her  love. 

In  the  workhouse  schools  love  lies  dead.  It  in  no 
way  enters  the  curriculum  of  the  educational  advan- 
tages. It  is  not  considered  necessary  for  "  pauper 
children,"  yet  Sally  had  loved  in  her  heart  one  or 
two  of  her  companions,  and  when  she  went  to  service 
she  was  anxious  to  love  her  mistress  ;  but,  to  her 
bitter  vexation,  Mrs.  Jane  Carter  resented  what  she 
called  familiarities,  and  Sally  soon  became  the  slave 
of  a  harsh  woman.  From  early  morning1  until  late 
at  night  she  toiled,  receiving"  no  thanks,  and  bearing 
constant  complaints  with  stoical  indifference.  Once 
or  twice  she  had  smiled  at  Vanda  and  said  a  kind 
word  to  her,  but  the  chance  came  very  seldom. 
One  day,  however,  Vanda  caught  sight  of  Sally  com- 
ing upstairs,  and  putting  up  her  finger,  she  beckoned 
to  her,  whilst  she  placed  a  finger  of  the  other  hand 
on  her  lips  to  let  Sally  understand  she  must  be 
silent. 

Sally  put  down  her  brush  quietly,  and  stole  noise- 
lessly to  where  Vanda  stood,  her  poor  thin  shoes  be- 
ing excellent  for  that  purpose.  A  slatternly  figure 
she  looked  standing  by  the  unique  beauty  of  Vanda, 
with  her  erect  figure  and  refined  bearing.  Sally's 
hair  was  red,  and  hung  about  her  face  in  rough 
clusters,  whilst  the  rest  was  gathered  together  and 
tied  with  a  piece  of  black  tape  at  the  back  of  her  head  ; 
her  apron  was  ragged  and  dirty,  and  her  old  black 
dress  was  pinned  over  to  make  it  fit,  for  it  had  been 
made  for  her  stout  mistress,  and  had  undergone  no 
alteration.  To  shorten  the  length,  it  was  tucked 
under  the  band,  making  the  child  look  like  a  dancing 
dervish.  Her  sleeves  were  tucked  up  to  her  elbows, 
leaving  her  red  and  begrimed  arms  quite  bare  ;  her 
hands  were  raw  looking,  with  cuts  and  unhealed 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 


255 


chilblains,  and  were  greasy  and  black  from  washing 
the  household  saucepans.  When  Vanda  beckoned 
her,  the  girl  had  put  up  her  hand  to  tidy  her  hair, 
leaving  as  she  did  so  a  smudge  on  her  freckled,  un- 
cleansed  face. 

"Where  is  Horrox?"  asked  Vanda  cautiously. 

"  A-quarreling  along  of  the  mistress,"  said  the  girl 
in  a  whisper,  a  smile  coming  over  her  woe-begone 
face. 

"Where  is  he?"  said  Vanda  hurriedly. 

"In  missis' best  parlour.  He  says  as  how  we's 
took  the  tea  for 'our  own  use,  and  he  ain't  going  to 
buy  two  pounds  a  week  for  we  to  use  it.  Missis 
often  do  borrower  his  tea  ;  she  calls  it  borrower,  but 
she  don't  ever  put  it  back.  It's  like  the  brandy — she 
nips  up  a  drop  of  his  now  and  agin,  when  you's  all 
out ;  and  we  often  has  a  shovel  or  two  of  the  coals 
sint  up  to  you,  but  she  charges  for  a  scuttle  all  the 
same  ;  and  she  puts  one  egg  into  the  pudding  and 
charges  Mister  Horrox  for  two.  '  Perks'  she  calls 
them,  but  I  guess  it's  stealing,  ain't  it  ?  "  and  she 
grinned  all  over  her  face,  as  if  it  was  some  satisfac- 
tion to  tell  of  her  mistress's  misdeeds. 

"Never  mind  all  that,"  whispered  Vanda  ;  "come 
into  my  room,  I  want  you.  Horrox  may  be  here 
directly." 

"No,  he  won't  When  he  hollers  at  mistress  he's 
a  good  time  coming  round,  and  she'll  'ave  to  take 
somethink  off  the  bill.  A  real  rumpus  takes  a  good 
time  to  settle.  Missis  won't,  Mister  Horrox  won't, 
and  that's  how  they  gits  to  a  rigular  row." 

She  followed  Vanda,  and  when  the  door  was  closed 
she  waited  for  her  to  speak. 

"Sally,  I  want  you  to  do  me  a  very  great  favour, 
and  not  to  tell  anyone.  Mind,  not  a  soul  is  to  know  ; 
it's  quite  a  secret  between  you  and  me." 

Sally  nodded  her  shaggy,  unkept  head,  and  whis- 
pered mysteriously, 

"Is  it  anything  to  do  with  a  young  man,  miss  ?  " 


25 6  SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST. 

Vanda  gave  a  sad  smile  and  replied, — 

"  No,  Sally,  I  had  a  very  dear  friend  once,  and  since 
I  came  here  I  must  not  write  to  her.  Her  husband 
is  dead  now,  and  she  has  no  one  to  love  her.  It 
would  make  her  happy  to  have  this  letter.  Will  you 
post  it  for  me  ?  "  said  Vanda,  holding  the  precious 
missive  in  her  hands. 

"Yes,  sure  I  will ;  but  s'pose  the  hanswer  comes 
back,  they'll  want  to  know  who  posted  it,  and  then  I 
shall  git  it  pretty  'ot,"  said  the  girl  in  a  frightened 
voice. 

"I  have  given  no  address;  it's  only  to  let  her 
know  I  am  alive." 

"Was  you  ever  so  fond  of  'er,  miss  ? "  asked  Sally 
sadly. 

"Yes,  yes;  she  was  a  mother  to  me,"  responded 
Vanda  wearily. 

"Give  it  us,"  said  Sally.  "  I'll  post  'im,  and  hold 
my  tongue.  I'm  blowed  if  I'll  split." 

She  took  the  letter  and  put  it  down  the  neck  of  her 
dress,  and  shook  herself  once  or  twice  until  it  slipped 
between  her  underlinen  and  her  unwashed  skin. 

"There,  'e'll  rest  there,  safe  as  a  gun,  until  I  gits 
out,  and  then  I'll  post  it  in  the  first  piller  I  gets  to," 
said  Sally,  satisfied. 

"But  when  will  that  be?  "asked  Vanda,  anxious 
that  her  letter  should  not  be  delayed  or  be  left  to  fall 
into  other  hands. 

"Well,  missis  'ad  some  'errins  in  this  morning, 
and  she  said  as  'o\v  I  had  to  go  and  change  'em — 
they  smells  orful,  and  we  give  three  harf-pence  for 
two  of  'em — they's  for  dinner,  so  missus  must  send 
me  soon,  and  then  I'll  go  in  the  scullery  and  wrop 
them  up — and  betwixt  the  two  your  letter  'ull  set 
nicely.  None  of  them  'ull  guess  that  a  letter  is  in 
with  the  'errins,  and  I'll  take  it  out  afore  I  gets  to 
the  fish  shop,"  said  Sally,  with  a  chuckle. 

"  And  you  will  tell  no  one,  Sally  ? " 

"  No  fears  of  that.    I  writ  to  the  baker's  boy  once, 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  257 

and  missis  don't  know  to  this  day,  that  she  don't — 
Sally  Pike  ain't  a  fool." 

"I  have  nothing1  to  give  you,  Sally,  for  your  trouble 
— I  wish  I  had — I  haven't  another  penny  left.  The 
stamped  envelope  I  had  by  me  ;  Mrs.  Le  Sale  put  it 
in  for  me  to  write  to  say  we  got  to  Manchester  safely, 
but  I  could  not  manage  to  post  it  before." 

"You  can  give  one  thing,  miss,  if  you  will,"  said 
Sally  shyly,  "it  don't  cost  anything,  not  even  a 
penny." 

"What  is  it,  Sally?" 

"A  kiss,  miss,  just  one  kiss.  I'm  awfully  lonely 
at  times,  and  I  often  wishes  there  was  some  one  to 
give  me  a  good  hearty  smack.  I  ain't  'ad  a  kiss  since 
I  came  here,  and  that's  nigh  on  two  years.  I'd  like 
to  'ave  one  just  to  see  'ow  it  feels,"  she  added,  with 
pathos. 

Vanda  looked  at  the  dirty  face  before  her,  and  for 
a  moment  she  shrank  from  the  task. 

The  girl  saw  the  look,  and  read  the  truth  in  a  mo- 
ment. Taking  up  her  apron,  she  passed  it  across  her 
mouth  once  or  twice,  saying, — 

"There,  it's  quite  clean  now,  Miss  Vander." 

Vanda  was  ashamed  of  having  hesitated,  and  she 
kissed  the  girl  two  or  three  times  passionately,  as 
if  glad  herself  to  have  found  a  friend  in  the  squalid 
little  slavey. 

"That's  real  like  'eaven,"  said  the  girl.  "Now,  I 
don't  care  if  I  don't  git  another  kiss  till  I'm  married, 
that  I  don't." 

Vanda  smiled  and  replied, — 

"  I  will  always  kiss  you  when  I  can,  but  you  won't 
mind  if  I  ask  you  to  go  now,  will  you  ?  I  am  afraid 
we  may  be  caught." 

"Ton  my  soul,  I'll  go,  and  now "  But  before 

she  had  finished  speaking  heavy  footsteps  were  heard 
coming  up  the  staircase. 

"That's  'im,"  said  Sally,  and  Vanda  turned  deadly 
white  with  anxiety. 

17 


258  SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WD  UST. 

"  Do  go,  Sally,  go  ;  do  go  at  once,"  she  urged.  But 
Sally  whisked  off  her  apron  and  made  for  the  window, 
which  she  began  to  clean  with  vigour.  At  this  mo- 
ment Horrox  opened  the  door  in  search  of  Vanda. 

He  looked  at  her,  and  then  at  the  servant,  but  he 
could  read  nothing  in  their  faces  to  lead  him  to  sup- 
pose that  they  spoken  to  each  other.  Vanda  looked 
as  depressed  as  ever,  and  Sally  seemed  absorbed  in 
her  work  ;  apparently  they  appeared  innocent  of  each 
other's  presence. 

"Come  into  the  sitting-room.  What  right  have 
you  to  be  in  the  bed-room?  Get  out  at  once,"  said 
Horrox,  angrily,  pushing  her  as  he  spoke,  "  and 
come  to  your  work,  both  of  you,  quick." 

Even  Horrox's  love  of  revenge  was  satisfied  as  he 
watched  them  droop  day  by  day,  pitiable  wrecks  of 
their  former  beauty. 

But  help  was  at  hand,  the  days  of  their  suffering 
were  drawing  to  a  close.  Many  other  children's 
days  of  labour  would  be  ended  if  selfish  sightseers 
would  only  say  they  should  be. 

But  they  will  not. 

Yet  these  people  writhe  in  holy  horror  and  indig- 
nation at  the  mention  of  a  Spanish  bull-fight,  and 
protest  loudly  against  the  iniquitous  cruelty.  Noth- 
ing would  persuade  these  fastidious,  highly  cultured 
ladies  to  witness  a  scene  likely  to  upset  their  delicate 
nerves.  "  They  really  couldn't." 

But  they  enjoy  seeing  young  girls  perform  at  per- 
ilous heights,  there  can  be  no  harm'\\\  that;  but  bull- 
fights are  so  cruel. 

Why?  Where  is  the  difference ?  Where  does  the 
definition  of  cruelty  commence?  where  is  the  limit? 
These  people  reply  with  one  accord,  the  bull  may 
kill  horse  and  rider,  its  own  gore  will  run  in  a  crim- 
son stream  in  the  ring  where  it  stands  to  be  goaded 
to  despair  and  frenzy,  this  they  must  see ;  but  the 
gymnast  has  bled  in  secret,  and  been  goaded  to  pass 
through  perils  often  beyond  her  physical  endurance, 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  259 

but  as  this  does  not  occur  in  public,  so  the  previous 
torture  is  nothing  to  these  sentimental  beings,  who 
detest  cruelty  when  it  interferes  with  their  personal 
comfort.  They  do  not  even  insist  upon  what  that 
enlightened  emperor  Marcus  Aurelius  commanded, 
that  persons  performing  on  tight-ropes,  and  other- 
wise, at  daring  heights  should  be  protected  by  a  net 
underneath. 

But  he  was  humane. 

They  are  not. 


26o  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

ON  THE  TRAIL. 

"  I  AM  tired  of  wandering,  Whanks.  I  think  I  shall 
go  back  to  the  old  country  and  see  who  are  living 
and  who  are  gone  for  ever.  There  may  be  some 
mistake  about  Leila  being  dead  ;  reports  are  never 
very  trustworthy,  and  if  she  is  dead,  poor  thing,  there 
are  the  children  to  see  to  ;  it  is  the  least  I  can  do  for 
her. " 

"I'm  afraid  it's  too  true,  sir.  Ringens  is  the  only 
one  I  have  written  to  from  here,  and  he  sent  out 
every  particular  of  her  death.  It  was  a  comfort  to 
think  your  father  was  with  her.  I'm  sure,  sir,  it 
was  best  that  we  heard  of  both  their  deaths  through 
his  letters,  or  maybe  going  to  the  old  country  would 
have  been  a  chapter  of  disappointments.  We  know 
the  worst,  and  that's  something  to  be  grateful  for," 
said  Whanks  with  gratitude. 

"But  there's  always  hope,  Whanks,  that  some 
mistake  has  arisen,  and  then,  as  I  said  before,  there 
are  the  children." 

"Yes,  and  there's  the  cuss  of  their  father  to  deal 
with.  I  reckon  they  are  with  him,  and  being  made 
useful  by  this  time.  Circus  folk  don't  keep  the  chil- 
dren at  home  with  nothing  to  do — you  see,  sir,  it's 
business  to  make  every  honest  penny  they  can." 

During  Tom  and  Whanks'  acquaintance  very  little 
had  been  said  of  Leila  or  her  married  life.  Before 
Whanks  had  come  across  Tom  he  had  received  full 
tidings  of  Leila's  death  and  that  of  her  father  from 
Ringens,  who  had  from  time  to  time  written  out  to 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  261 

the  faithful  servant  such  news  as  would  be  likely  to 
interest  him. 

' '  I  believe  she  died  from  a  broken  heart, "  he  wrote, 
and  Whanks  repeated  that  over  and  over  again,  the 
tears  often  coursing  down  his  cheeks,  and  he  would 
cry  with  sorrow, — 

"  I  wish  to  God  I  had  never  left  her  to  face  it  out, 
poor  thing ;  but  my  aunt's  money  tempted  me  out, 
and  the  drink  would  have  ruined  me  at  home.  Oh, 
Miss  Leila  !  Miss  Leila  !  '' 

He  tore  up  the  letters  which  bore  the  sad  news. 

"Bad  enough  to  have  to  think  of  it  without  hav- 
ing it  in  writing,  as  if  I  was  likely  to  forget  her,"  he 
said  with  bitterness  ;  and  so  when  Tom  asked  to  see 
the  letters  Whanks  had  none  to  show  him,  and  from 
that  time  Tom  refused  to  believe  his  sister  and  father 
were  dead. 

"  But  surely  the  father  won't  mind  their  uncle  see- 
ing them.  There's  no  mystery,  i  suppose,  is  there  ?  " 
he  asked  impatientl}r, 

"A  gooclish  deal,  I  expect,  sir,  a  goodish  deal," 
he  repeated  mechanically. 

"Don't  you  believe  my  sister  was  married  to  this 
infernal  rider,  or  ring-master,  or  whatever  he  is?  If 
she  was,  where  can  the  mystery  be  ? "  said  Tom 
with  rising  anger. 

"I  told  you,  Mr.  Tom,  that  I  saw  Leila  Gurney 
made  Castelli's  lawful  wife.  If  going  to  church  and 
swearing  to  do  this,  that  and  t'other  makes  man  and 
wife,  then  your  sister  was  married  tight  enough. 
I've  said  many  times,  sir,  that  I  was  one  of  the  wit- 
nesses at  the  ceremony,  and  if  you  think  I  wasn't, 
well,  you  must,"  said  Whanks  in  an  injured  voice. 

"  I  don't  doubt  you,  Whanks,  but  when  you  talk 
of  mysteries,  and  the  children  as  if  there  was  a  doubt 
of  my  getting  at  them,  I  don't  know  what  to  think," 
he  replied  doubtfully. 

"Not  evil  of  my  Miss  Leila,  any  way,  "said  Whanks, 
waxing  hot,  "and  the  mystery  is  soon  put  right. 


262  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

When  Miss  Leila  died,  God  bless  her !  the  little  ones 
would  be  left  on  Castelli's  hands,  and  I  bet  he 
wouldn't  be  bothered  with  them,  and  very  likely 
he  has  parted  with  them  to  some  man  for  good  and 
all." 

"Done  what?"  said  Tom  in  astonishment. 

"  Given  them  over  to  someone  to  train  for  the  ring 
or  the  trapeze  ;  that's  quite  common  amongst  our  set, " 
replied  Whanks  coolly. 

"Well,  if  he  has  parted  with  them,  I  suppose  they 
are  to  be  found,"  said  Tom  with  determination. 

Whanks  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Ah,  sir,  you  don't  know  as  much  as  I  do  about 
the  '  profession. '  No  convent  ever  kept  young  women 
as  close  as  the  artiste  does  his  apprentices.  There 
isn't  much  chance  of  the  outside  world  seeing  what 
goes  on,  I  can  tell  you,  and  ten  to  one  Vanda  and 
Adrian  are  kept  hard  at  work,  and  never  allowed 
out  of  their  trainer's  sight,  that's  the  rule." 

"All  the  more  reason  why  we  should  go  to  Eng- 
land at  once.  Should  you  have  any  idea  where  to 
begin  to  search  for  them,  Whanks?"  asked  Tom  with 
anxiety. 

"To  a  T.  I  bet  I  could  lay  my  hands  upon  them 
in  a  week,  provided  they  were  in  England.  I  know 
one  or  two  who  could  put  me  up  to  the  dodge  at 
once.  If  they  are  to  be  found,  I'm  the  man,"  replied 
Whanks  with  confidence. 

"Then  I  hope  you  will  agree  to  come  along  back 
to  the  old  country,  and  I  propose  we  start  as  soon 
as  possible  with  the  mail  bags,  for  although  not  too 
comfortable,  I  am  fidgeting  to  get  on,  for  in  my  pres- 
ent state  of  mind  'trecking'  would  simply  drive  me 
mad." 

"All  right !  I  shall  be  just  as  glad  to  see  her  chil- 
dren as  you  can  be,  God  bless  them  !  " 

A  few  days  later  found  them  well  on  their  way — 
perhaps  as  comfortless  a  journey  as  could  be  taken 
in  any  part  of  the  world,  for  when  Tom  and  Whanks 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  263 

tried  it,  there  was  no  accommodation  for  passen- 
gers with  the  mails.  They  had  to  do  the  best  they 
could,  and  sit  or  lie  about  upon  the  bag's,  irrespective 
of  hard,  angular  parcels  which  were  being  borne  to 
friends  far  away.  At  various  posts  the  horses  and 
drivers  were  changed,  but  the  miserable  passengers 
were  never  changed — no  such  luck  befel  them,  rest 
there  was  none,  and  the  only  sleep  they  could  ob- 
tain was  short,  and  taken  alternately,  when  one 
would  watch  that  the  sleeping  comrade  did  not  fall 
into  the  road,  as  the  callous  drivers  on  passing  a 
piece  of  rough  road  would  suddenly  whip  up  the 
team  of  horses  with  their  long  rhympie  whips.  To 
suit  themselves,  the  drivers  could  often  be  most  tan- 
talisingly  slow,  which  maddened  Tom  almost  to 
frenzy,  but  like  their  confreres  at  home  they  had  the 
happy  habit  of  coming  up  to  the  post-station  as 
though  the  whole  journey  had  been  conducted  at 
the  rate  of  twenty  miles  an  hour. 

Everything  pleasant,  everything  miserable  has  an 
end,  either  on  the  earth  or  in  the  grave — even  such 
a  journey  as  Tom  and  Whanks  had  experienced — 
and  both  were  glad  to  find  themselves  on  board  one 
of  the  Donald  Currie  steamers,  where  Whanks  in  par- 
ticular appreciated  the  luxury  of  the  saloon  after  the 
years  of  roughing  it  in  different  circuses  and  in  a 
strange  land. 

He  was  a  rich  man  now,  and  riches,  not  birth,  bring 
comfort. 

During  the  voyage  home  Tom  had  made  up  his 
mind  to  know  more  of  Leila's  domestic  life,  and  of 
the  life  she  had  lived  amongst  the  circus  folk.  Like 
most  people  he  had  no  idea  of  the  "behind  the 
scenes,"  and  there  was  much  he  wished  to  be  made 
acquainted  with.  Sitting  on  the  deck  one  day  with 
Whanks,  he  broached  the  subject. 

"  Whanks  !  " 

"Yes,  sir."  Whanks  had  always  adopted  a  tone 
of  respect  towards  Tom,  and  once  when  Tom  had 


264  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

told  him  that  they  were  friends,  and  not  master  and 
servant,  Whanks  had  replied, — 

"But  you  are  Miss  Leila's  brother,  and  that's 
enough  for  me,"  and  he  never  omitted  the  "sir" 
when  addressing  him. 

"Tell  me  candidly,  was  Leila  happy  with  her  hus- 
band ?  Don't  hide  the  truth.  I  wish  to  know  ex- 
actly how  she  lived.  She  was  my  only  sister." 

Whanks  hesitated.  He  did  not  like  to  tell  Tom 
how  the  beautiful  girl  had  grown  daily  more  white 
and  thin  ;  he  was  almost  afraid  to  repeat  the  words 
of  anguish  which  burst  from  her  lips  one  morning  at 
the  circus,  when  she  thought  no  one  was  near  :  "  My 
God,  spare  me  more  misery  ;  I  cannot  bear  it" 

Tom  noticed  his  reluctance,  and  continued, — • 

"Are  you  afraid  to  tell  me  of  all  my  sister  suf- 
fered? Have  I  not  the  right  to  know?"  he  added 
sadly. 

"You  have  the  right,  sir,  I  can't  deny  that;  but 
she's  gone  now,  poor  thing,  and  what's  the  use  of 
making  your  life  miserable  as  well  as  hers  ?  " 

"Then  she  was  miserable?"  said  Tom;  "you 
have  acknowledged  as  much." 

Whanks  noided,  and  then  added, — 

"  She  was,  so  there's  no  use  to  make  out  other- 
wise. She  was  gentle,  good,  and  kind ;  he  was 
brutal,  perfectly  brutal,  and  didn't  understand  her. 
I've  heard  him  use  the  most  filthy  language  to  her. 
At  last  she  grew  quite  afraid  of  him,  and  a  coldness 
seemed  to  spring  up  between  them.  The  fact  was, 
he  soon  tired  of  his  lady  wife — the  pig  and  the  dove 
can't  mate  together ;  you  may  try  it,  but  I  reckon 
the  pig  is  a  pig  to  the  last,  and  never  learns  the  coo 
of  the  dove.  And  so  it  was  with  Castelli.  He 
couldn't  learn  Miss  Leila's  sweet  ways.  When  she 
cooed,  he  grunted,  and  so  matters  grew  worse.  She 
never  said  much  to  me,  but  I  twigged  a  good  deal, 
and  I  watched  her  pretty  closely  ;  but  I  think  the 
worst  trouble  of  all  was  that  her  husband  took  a  good 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  265 

deal  of  notice  of  a  woman,  Cleo  by  name,  whom  he 
saw  a  good  deal  of — a  regular  bad  one,  •!  can  tell  you, 
who  did  her  best  to  get  my  master. to  take  on  with 
her.  Ah,  she  was  a  bad  one,"  he  repeated. 

"And  did  Castelli  do  anything  so  vile  as  to  pay 
attentions  to  this  Cleo  woman  and  to  forget  my  sis- 
ter ?  Poor  Leila  !  what  degradation  she  must  have 
endured,"  said  Tom  with  sorrow  in  his  voice. 

Whanks  smiled  sadly. 

"Ah,  Mr.  Tom,  "he  didn't  forget  Miss  Leila,  and 
neither  did  he  forget  Cleo.  He  was  proud  of  his 
wife,  but  he  played  fast  and  loose  with  the  other, 
and  then  they  quarrelled,  and  when  Miss  Vanda  was 
born  he  steadied  up  a  bit,  and  then  all  of  a  sudden 
he  put  her  in  the  'ring/  and  became  master  instead 
of  husband,  and  after  that  he  treated  her  like  an  ap- 
prentice, instead  of  a  wife.  In  my  humble  opinion, 
sir,  she  is  best  dead,  and  it  would  please  her  much 
better,  if  she  could  but  know  it,  if  we  looked  after  the 
children.  Bless  her,  she  loved  them  madly.  It's 
best  to  seek  the  living  and  leave  the  dead  to  rest,  sir. 
I  am'afraid  Vanda  and  her  brother  may  have  fallen  into 
cruel  hands.  It's  odds  he's  married  Cleo,  and  the 
children  may  be  suffering  terribly  now  with  some 
harsh  master.  The  right  thing  is  to  find  the  little 
ones,"  said  Whanks. 

"  But  surely  they  may  have  fallen  into  kind  hands  ? 
Are  all  the  masters  cruel  ? "  asked  Tom,  almost  too 
pained  to  speak. 

"Some  are  pretty  hard  when  the  training  is  on," 
said  Whanks.  "I  never  knew  but  one  kind  trainer, 
and  he  was  kind  if  you  like.  His  name  was  Le 
Sale.  I  don't  know  what  became  of  him,  but  he 
had  a  heart  like  a  child,  tender  as  a  new  potato.  I 
remember  Castelli  used  to  laugh  at  him  and  call  him 
a  fool,  but  he  was  the  best  of  the  bunch  for  all  that. 
I  never  saw  a  better,  kinder  man  to  beast  or  appren- 
tice ;  but  it  is  not  likely  the  children  are  with  him. 
I  don't  feel  verv  comfortable  about  them.  But  for 


266  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

Miss  Leila's  sake  I  shall  ferret  out  what  their  father 
has  done  with  them." 

"You  seem  pretty  sure  their  father  has  parted 
with  them,"  said  Tom  with  some  indignation. 

"Sure  as  the  sun  shines.  I  know  my  customer, 
and  time  will  prove  which  way  the  land  lies,"  replied 
Whanks  quietly. 

After  that  day  the  conversation  was  never  renewed 
until  they  landed  on  English  .shores,  and  then 
Whanks  suggested  they  should  go  to  London  direct. 

"  It's  no  use  dangling  about  in  the  provinces.  If 
we  stop  in  London  we  shall  get  on  the  right  scent  at 
once,  and  save  ourselves  no  end  of  bother." 

And  so  Tom  acquiesced  in  the  arrangements. 

Both  men  felt  strange  and  lonely  when  they  arrived 
in  London.  There  were  no  happy  faces  to  greet 
them,  no  one  to  bid  them  welcome,  no  hospitable 
board  waiting  for  them  to  partake  of  the  feast,  with 
friends  and  neighbours  smiling  upon  them  and  bid- 
ding them  to  eat,  drink,  and  be  merry.  There  were 
no  such  things  for  the  weary  travellers,  so  they  drove 
to  a  hotel  and  put  in  their  lot  with  strangers. 

How  many  like  Tom  and  Whanks  return  after 
long  years  to  the  old  country  to  find  no  smiles  of 
love  to  greet  them,  no  outstretched  hand  ready  to 
press  theirs?  Yet  how  eagerly  that  long-desired 
homecoming  had  been  longed  for,  how  impatiently 
waited.  The  vision  of  the  joy  of  seeing  the  old 
home  again  is  perfect.  They  forget  time  will  have 
wrought  changes  in  people,  places,  and  things  ;  that 
the  sunlights  and  the  shades  can  never  be  quite  the 
same  ;  that  the  past  has  been  lost  in  the  current  of 
years. 

Like  the  anxious  man  who  left  his  home  to  gain 
riches,  and  returned  suddenly  after  ten  years'  ab- 
sence, kissed  his  wife  fondly,  and  then  said  :  "  Now, 
where  is  baby?"  "Here,"  cried  a  bright,  girlish 
voice,  and  the  father  beheld  a  tall,  handsome  child. 
He  had  forgotten  the  lapse  of  years,  and  replied  : 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  267 

"  When  far  away  from  you  all  I  have  always  thought 
of  home  as  I  saw  it  last,  my  bonnie  w*ife  holding  up 
'  baby '  to  say  good-bye,  and  now  she  has  grey  hair, 
and  baby  is  changed  into  a  young  lady." 

How  true  it  is  that  the  mind  carries  with  it  to  dis- 
tant climes  the  last  picture  of  home  life  upon  which 
the  eyes  have  rested — all  else  seems  lost  but  the  long 
farewell. 

But  alas  !  how  many  others  have  found  the  cot- 
tage home  shut  up,  the  honeysuckle  dead,  the  green, 
sunny  garden,  where  the  roses  bloomed  and  the  pinks 
and  lupines  grew  in  profusion,  left  to  neglect  and 
decay.  The  path  up  to  the  little  porch  grass-grown, 
the  gate  padlocked,  for  two  more  stones  are  in  the 
churchyard  hard  by. 

The  old  folks  rest  there. 

The  day  after  Tom  and  Whanks'  arrival  in  London 
they  commenced  their  search  for  Leila's  children. 
Whanks  bought  an  Era  newspaper.  He  ran  his 
eyes  down  the  first  page,  but  there  was  nothing  to 
his  satisfaction.  He  turned  to  the  back  sheet  but 
one,  and  eagerly  scanned  the  column  headed  "  Circus 
Artistes'  Wants."  At  last  he  chuckled  to  himself, 
"Ah,  that's  the  game,  is  it? "and  he  read  two  or 
three  times  over  : — 

"Wanted  known  Emilio  Castelli's  performing 
horses  great  success  at  Wyatt's  Grand  Circus,  Bom- 
bay." 

"Wanted  known  Mdlle.  Cleo,  greatest  success  on 
record — Wyatt's  Grand  Circus,  Bombay." 

"Now,  where  are  the  children,  that's  the  rub?" 
he  said  aloud.  "  I  guess  they're  not  out  in  that  lo- 
cality. Let  me  see.  Ringens  might  know,  or  Le 

Sale — or "  But  Whanks  could  think  ofnooneelse. 

He  had  grown  rusty  about  circus  matters.  "  I'll  be 
off  at  once  and  see  some  of  the  agents,  and  find  out 
what  I  can,"  he  said  in  a  loud  whisper. 

The  first  agent  he  called  upon  told  him  that  Le  Sale 


268  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

was  dead,  and  that  Ringens  was  at  El  Circo,  Valencia, 
Spain,  and  that  his  engagement  was  a  long  one. 
That  was  all  he  could  glean,  and  he  began  to  fear 
that  he  must  return  to  the  hotel  without  much  news 
for  poor,  anxious  Tom.  He  sauntered  about  con- 
sidering what  would  be  the  best  means  of  finding 
out  Leila's  children.  Suddenly  a  woman  dressed  in 
shabby  black  passed  him.  She  was  carrying  a 
bundle  in  her  arms,  and  she  seemed  tired  and  weary. 
She  looked  very  hard  at  Whanks,  as  if  trying  to  recall 
to  mind  who  he  was. 

Whanks  noticed  the  look  of  inquiry  and  thought  to 
himself, — 

"That's  some  of  the  blessed  crew.  I  know  the 
face,  I  believe." 

He  turned  to  look  back  at  her.  She  was  standing 
watching  him,  and  their  eyes  met.  Then  she  ad- 
vanced towards  him  and  said, — 

"Excuse  me,  but  I  think  you  are  Mr.  Whanks, 
as  used  to  be  ring  groom  with  Castelli  down  at  the 
circus  where  my  poor  dear  husband  was — was  en- 
gaged ? " 

"  Yes,  I  am  Whanks  right  enough,"  he  answered, 
"but,  'pon  my  soul  I  don't  know  you." 

"I'm  Mrs.  Le  Sale.  Poor  Le  Sale  is  dead,  and  I 
have  to  get  on  as  I  can.  Ah,  there's  been  a  lot  of 
changes  since  you  left,"  she  added  with  a  sigh. 

Whanks  put  out  his  hand  and  took  hers,  saying 
heartily, — 

"I'm  very  glad  to  see  you,  Mrs.  Le  Sale,  very, 
and  now  suppose  you  come  in  somewhere  and  have 
a  bit  of  dinner." 

Together  they  went,  and  Whanks  was  a  very  pa- 
tient listener  to  all  she  had  to  tell ;  but  his  interest 
rose  considerably  when  she  told  him  that  Castelli's 
two  children  had  been  apprenticed  to  her  late  hus- 
band. 

' '  Where  are  they  ?  Where  are  they  now  ?  "  asked 
Whanks  excitedly,  jumping  up  in  his  eagerness. 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  269 

"  I  don't  know.     I  wish  to  God  I  did." 

Whank's  hopes  fell  like  lead  falls  to  the  bottom  of 
the  deepest  well. 

' '  You  don't  know  ?  You  must  know,  my  good 
woman,  if  they  were  in  your  house?" 

Mrs.  Le  Sale  told  Whanks  how  things  stood,  and 
that  she  had  given  them  up  in  deference  to  her  hus- 
band's wishes,  then  she  continued, — 

"A  month  ago  I  received  a  few  lines  from  Van  da. 
She  gave  no  address,  so  I  guess  it  was  posted  on  the 
q.  t.,  but  the  postmark  was  Selchester.  The  letter 
broke  my  heart  nearly,  and  yesterday  I  wrote  out 
to  their  father,  for  /  don't  believe  things  are 
straight.'' 

"  So  that  villain  Horrox  has  them,  has  he?  Well, 
it  won't  be  long  before  they  part,  or  my  name  isn't 
Whanks.  Selchester — that's  good  enough  for  me. 
Now,  where  do  you  live,  in  case  I  want  you?" 

"Over  the  tobacconist's  in  the  Waterloo  Road, 
Clye  is  the  name.  You  can't  mistake  it;  and  very 
nice  people  they  are." 

"Well,  here's  something  for  the  children,  for  the 
sake  of  the  old  days,"  and  Whanks  slipped  a  five- 
pound  note  into  her  hand.  "Now,  look  here,  Mrs. 
Le  Sale,  you  hold  your  blessed  tongue  over  this  busi- 
ness and  I'll  make  it  worth  your  while.  I  may  have 
to  bring  the  children  up  to  you.  If  I  do,  don't  breathe 
one  word  who  they  are,  or  we  sha'n't  be  able  to  get 
them  over  the  water.  Do  you  see  what  I  mean  ? " 

"  He  won't  give  them  up,  I'm  sadly  afraid,"  replied 
Mrs.  Le  Sale. 

"Then  I  shall  break  his  head  open,  and  there'll  be 
bloodshed.  One  of  us  must  get  the  worst  of  it,  and 
I  lay  a  quid  he'll  be  the  one.  Now,  good-bye  for 
the  present,  and  wait  further  orders." 

Mrs.  Le  Sale  thanked  Whanks  heartily  for  his 
generous  gift,  and  then  they  parted. 

Whanks  scrambled  into  a  cab,  and  called  out  to 
the  driver, — 


270  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

"Tavistock  Hotel,  and  hurry  up  that  skinny  old 
horse.  I'm  in  a  deuced  uncertainty  about  the  trains, 
so  look  sharp,  cabby." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  daresay  you'd  like  me  to  drive  !im 
like  a  racehorse,  and  get  locked  hup  by  the  society 
for  the  prewention  of  cruelty  to  'osses — no  fear." 

"Here,  just  you  start,  and  there  will  be  an  extra 
bob  for  you  at  the  end  of  the  journey,"  said  Whanks 
cheerily. 

With  a  grunt  of  satisfaction  the  cabman  whipped 
up  his  horse,  and  in  due  time  he  arrived  at  the  Tavis- 
tock Hotel. 

Tom  was  sitting-  reading  in  his  bedroom  when 
Whanks  blustered  in  in  a  state  of  great  excitement, 
calling  out  hurriedly, — 

"The  children  are  in  Selchester.  Here,  make 
haste,  and  let  us  chuck  the  things  in  the  portmanteau. 
I'll  do  that  if  you'll  go  down  and  find  out  what  time 
the  train  goes." 

"  Thank  God,  we  have  found  them,"  said  Tom 
gravely. 

"Well,  we  just  haven't  yet,"  replied  Whanks, 
"but  I  am  going  to,  so  just  be  quick,  sir,  or  we 
shall  lose  the  next  train.  I'm  all  of  a  tremble  to  be 
off." 

He  opened  the  portmanteau  with  a  wrench,  and 
pushed  in  sufficient  things  to  last  them  both  for  some 
days.  Then  he  closed  it  with  a  bang,  and  waited 
impatiently  for  Tom's  reappearance.  At  last  he  came. 

"There's  a  train  at  five-thirty,"  said  Tom,  "will 
that  suit  you  ?  We've  just  an  hour  before  we  need 
start,  so  let's  get  some  food  and  pay  the  bill." 

Whanks  took  no  notice  of  this  remark  for  a  mo- 
ment, and  then  he  said, — 

"I  wonder  if  Miss  Vanda  is  like  her  poor  mother  ?" 

"I  hope  so,"  said  Tom;  "it  is  nice  to  see  the 
picture  of  the  dead  in  the  living." 

They  were  soon  on  their  way,  each  hour  bringing 
them  nearer  to  the  children  of  the  dead  woman  so 
dear  to  them  both. 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  271 

Little  did  Vanda  and  Adrian  dream  that  night  that 
friends  were  so  close  to  them. 

They  slept  after  the  work  and  torture  of  the  day, 
while  Tom  and  Whanks  spent  hours  in  arranging 
what  were  the  best  means  to  ensure  success  in  their 
undertaking. 

When  the  sun  came  out  over  the  great  city,  Vanda 
and  Adrian  went  to  their  work  as  the  galley  slaves 
go,  without  hope. 

But  peace,  joy,  rest,  and  happiness  were  at  hand. 

The  days  of  toil  were  nearly  ended. 

But  thev  did  not  know  it 


272  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

PAID  IX  FULL. 

WHANKS  soon  found  his  way  to  the  circus,  which  was 
then  in  Selchester,  and  going  down  early,  when  he 
knew  the  rehearsals  were  on,  he  asked  to  see  the 
ring-master. 

"Who  wants  to  see  me?  I'm  busy;  tell  the  man 
to  come  again." 

"He  told  me  to  say,  sir,  that  he  was  engaged 
with  Signor  Castelli  for  years,  and  must  see  you," 
said  the  groom. 

"  Does  he  want  a  situation  ?  If  he  does,  say  we 
are  full  up,  there  is  no  vacancy,"  replied  Daspar  im- 
patiently. 

"He  looks  like  a  gent,  sir;  he's  come  in  a  cab, 
and  is  dressed  wonderful  well.  In  fact  I'm  sure  he 
is  a  gentleman."  The  man  was  thinking  of  the  tip 
he  had  received  as  an  inducement  to  venture  to  dis- 
turb Signor  Daspar  at  his  duties  as  ring-master. 

"Go  and  fetch  him,  and  be  quick  about  it,"  he 
said  to  the  man. 

Whanks  entered  the  ring,  and  a  strange  feeling 
came  over  him.  It  seemed  as  if  the  old  life  had 
come  back  again,  and  he  half  expected  to  see  Cas- 
telli and  Miss  Leila  there  waiting  for  him.  Daspar 
smiled  when  he  saw  his  visitor  and  said, — 

"  I'm  hanged  if  it  isn't  Whanks.  Well,  who  would 
have  guessed  you  would  turn  up?  It  seems  like  old 
times  again.  Come  out  and  have  a  drink  with 
me?" 

"No,  thanks,   sir.     When  I  came  into  my  aunt's 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  273 

money  I  vowed  I'd  never  drink  another  of  '  mild  or 
strong-,'  and  I  never  will,  thanking-  you  all  the  same. 
I  came  down  here  to  ask  you  if  you  could  tell  me 
where  Horrox  hangs  out — you  know  Horrox  the 
gymnast — I  want  to  see  him  particularly,"  said 
Whanks  nervously. 

"He  was  here  a  few  minutes  ago.  He  is  going 
to  bring-  two  children  out  in  January,  and  they  will 
appear  here.  I  don't  know  much  about  him.  He  is 
no  favourite  here,  and  his  apprentices  look  pretty  bad. 
He  brought  them  down  once  or  twice.  But  I'm  half 
afraid  he's  gone.  John,  John  ! "  he  called,  and  a 
groom  came  hurriedly  forward. 

'Yes,  sir." 

'  Has  Horrox  left  the  building-  ? " 

'  Yes,  sir,  some  minutes  ago." 

'  Where  does  he  live,  John  ? " 

'  Don't  know,  sir,  but  Sam  knows." 

'Go  and  ask  him,  and  be  quick." 
The   man    went   off  with   alacrity,    and  returned 
almost  immediately  and  said, — 

"Sam  says  as  how  he  lives  in  South-Side.  He's 
getting  the  name  of  the  street  and  the  number, 
sir. " 

At  this  moment  Sam  appeared,  bearing  a  piece  of 
crumpled  paper  in  his  hand. 

"There's  the  name  of  the  street,  sir,  but  no.  one 
here  is  sure  of  the  number.  Tim  thinks  it's  forty. 
I  think  it's  one  hundred  and  forty.  We're  sure  its 
something  with  a  four  in  it." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Whanks,  slipping  a  shilling 
into  the  man's  hand,  "I  shall  soon  find  the  house. 
The  street  isn't  too  long,  and  the  time  is  my  own," 
he  said  proudly. 

The  men  walked  away,  leaving  Daspar  and 
Whanks  alone  in  the  ring. 

"How  has  time  served  you,  Whanks  ?"*  asked 
Daspar. 

"  Splendidly,"  replied  Whanks.      "I  left  England 
18 


274 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 


with  four  hundred  pounds,  I  have  come  back  to  the 
old  country  with  thousands,  rich  enough  to  buy  this 
blessed  circus  and  all  in  it,  and  a  good  many  other 
'shows  '  into  the  bargain." 

"You're  a  lucky  fellow,"  said  Daspar.  "How 
did  the  riches  come  to  you  ? " 

"From  my  claim  in  the  diamond  fields.  It's  been 
no  joke  sitting  there  scraping  and  scratching  like  a 
hen  all  the  day  long,  but  it's  better  than  working  in 
a  circus  after  all." 

"Well,  I  am  glad  to  hear  of  your  luck.  I  should 
not  object  if  I  could  boast  of  a  trifle  more  than  I  earn 
here  ;  and  deuced  hard  work  it  is,  never  done  morn- 
ing, noon,  and  night — one  long  toil,  always  the 
same,  not  Sunday  free  even.  But  here  I  am,  so  it's 
no  use  to  grumble  ;  but  I  get  pretty  dead  beat  at 
times." 

Whanks,  after  a  few  words  of  simple  sympathy, 
left  the  circus,  and  returned  to  Tom. 

"I've  found  out  the  villain  lives  in  South-Side,  but 
no  one  seems  sure  of  the  house,  so  I  think  we'll  start 
for  that  locality.  Bring  your  thin  walking-stick,  sir, 
we  may  want  it ;  he'll  be  a  pretty  rough  party  to 
deal  with,  I  dare  bet  a  quid." 

"I'll  give  him  the  most  thundering  thrashing  he 
ever  had  if  I  can  only  catch  him,"  said  Tom  quite 
fiercely. 

"What  a  villain  he  must  be  to  get  the  children 
from  LeSale  ;  but  we'll  make  him  confess  to  his  dirty 
tricks,  the  unscrupulous  scoundrel,"  continued  Tom, 
his  anger  rising  as  he  thought  of  the  sufferings  to 
which  his  sister's  children  must  have  been  subjected. 
Mrs.  Le  Sale  had  told  Whanks  sufficient  to  make 
them  both  very  uneasy  about  the  welfare  of  Vanda 
and  Adrian. 

"They  couldn't  have  fallen  into  worse  hands," 
said  Whanks  to  Tom.  "  Horrox  is  about  the  cruel- 
lest man  /  ever  knew,  and  added  to  that  is  his  hate 
for  your  sister.  He  never  forgave  her  getting  him 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  275 

summoned,  and  all  this  blessed  trouble  starts  from 
that,  I  bet." 

Whanks'  knowledge  of  the  hardships  of  the  train- 
ing, even  under  the  most  favourable  circumstances, 
had  aroused  Tom's  worst  fears  ;  but  when  the 
character  of  the  man,  and  the  ill-feeling  he  bore 
Leila  became  facts,  his  anxiety  knew  no  bounds,  and 
he  in  his  turn  was  determined  to  have  revenge  for 
the  sake  of  the  dead  mother — the  only  sister,  and  the 
sole  companion  of  his  earlier  days,  who  had  clung 
so  lovingly  to  him  when  the  great  disgrace  of  their 
lives  had  fallen  upon  them  both. 

Together  the  men  started,  resolved  to  rescue  the 
children  before  many  more  hours  of  suffering  had 
passed  over  their  heads.  They  could  not  fix  upon 
any  certain  plan  of  action  until  they  found  out  more 
about  Horrox  and  his  surroundings. 

At  the  corner  of  Humphrey  Street  was  a  public- 
house,  and  into  this  Whanks  turned,  followed  by 
Tom. 

"  You  must  have  a  glass  of  bitter,"  said  Whanks 
to  Tom,  "or  I  shan't  get  out  of  them  what  I  want. 
I  mustn't  take  a  drop  ;  if  1  begin  the  old-  game  I'm 
done  for,  and  when  my  aunt's  money  came  I  vowed 
I  wouldn't  touch  another  glass,  and  I  won't." 

"  Glass  of  bitter,"  said  Tom  to  the  stout,  red-faced 
woman  at  the  bar. 

"  Small  lemon,"  said  Whanks. 

The  woman  pushed  the  glasses  towards  them  and 
banged  down  the  change  with  an  injured  air.  "She 
didn't  believe  in  a  customer  as  went  in  for  lemon- 
ade," and  she  made  it  a  rule  to  be  particularly  short 
and  disagreeable  to  those  who  occupied  the 
"  private"  bar  and  who  ordered  nothing  but  small 
lemons. 

She  was  turning  away  when  Whanks,  nothing 
daunted  by  her  manner,  said, — 

"  I  say,  mum,  I  want  you  a  minute." 

She  looked  at  the  speaker,  she  looked  at  Tom  and 


276  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

wondered  whether  he  was  an  excise  officer,  and  that 
thought  brought  her  back  to  the  counter  where  they 
stood. 

"  My  name's  Smith,  Mrs.  Sarah  Smith,  if  you  want 
to  speak  to  me,"  she  said  loftily.  "I  ain't  used  to 
be  called  after  in  that  fashion,  and  pray  what  do  you 
want  with  me/3" 

"I'm  sure  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Whanks  hastily, 
and  Tom  lifted  his  hat.  That  won  the  heart  of  Mrs. 
Sarah  Smith,  and  a  smile  broke  over  her  face,  mak- 
ing her  look  more  low-typed  and  coarse  than  ever. 
"  I  want  to  know  at  which  number  in  Humphrey 
Street  Mr.  Horrox  lives.  I  have  particular  business 
with  him.  Does  he  ever  come  in  here  ?  "  asked 
Whanks. 

"  Let  me  see,  I  think  it's  fourteen.  George,"  she 
called  to  a  burly  man,  who  was  rilling  glasses  rapid- 
ly one  after  the  other,  "  George,  which  is  the  house 
that  man — what's  his  name  ? — you  know  the  chap 
with  a  roaring  name  like  a  wild  beast." 

"  Horrox,''  put  in  Whanks. 

"  Ah,  yes,  that's  the  name.  Horrox,"  she  called 
to  her  husband. 

"  Fourty-four,  I  think  ;  but  the  gal  will  be  in  here 
soon  for  the  beer.  It's  nigh  on  one.  Ah,  here  she  is." 

Mrs.  Smith  went  over  to  the  other  counter  and  said 
a  few  words  to  the  child,  who  left  the  bar  and  came 
round  to  the  door  of  the  private  bar,  upon  which  was 
written  "  No  jugs,  glasses  only." 

When  Sally  saw  Whanks  and  Tom  standing  at 
the  counter  a  frightened  look  stole  over  her  face.  In 
her  childish  mind  visions  of  policemen  and  prison 
came  before  her,  for  had  not  she,  at  the  landlady's 
orders,  taken  what  belonged  to  the  lodgers  ?  And 
she  fancied  now  that  she  was  found  out. 

"  These  gentlemen  want  to  ask  you  a  question, 
child." 

"  You  live  in  the  same  house  as  Mr.  Horrox,  my 
dear,  don't  you?  "  said  Whanks  very  kindly. 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  277 

"Yes,  sir,  please  sir." 

"  Who  else  lives  in  the  house  ?  "  put  in  Tom,  as  if 
afraid  to  hear  her  reply. 

"  Mistress,  and  Miss  Vander,  and  Master  Adrian, 
and  me/'  answered  Sally. 

"Are  you  fond  of  Miss  Vanda  and  her  little 
brother  ?  "  asked  Whanks. 

"  Oh,  ain't  I  just,  that's  all,"  answered  Sally,  her 
grimy  face  breaking  into  a  look  of  real  pleasure  and 
love.  "  Miss  Vander  kisses  me  now  and  then  when 
the  old  brute  is  out  of  the  way." 

"  Who  is  the  old  brute  ?  "  asked  Tom. 

"  Mr.  Horrox,  to  be  sure.  He  do  whack  her 
about  !  She  looks  pretty  bad,  nigh  on  dying  I  think." 

"Would  you  help  Miss  Vanda  if  you  could?" 
asked  Tom.  "  Would  you  help  her  friends  to  find 
her  and  make  her  happy  ?  " 

"  Wouldn't  I  just !  But  she  ain't  got  no  friends,  I 
think.  I  posted  a  letter  for  her  once,  took  it  out 
'tween  the  'errins,  but  she  said  as  'ow  it  were  to 
someone  she'd  once  lived  with.  It  wasn't  a  mother 
or  anyone  of  that  sort,  'cause  she'd  have  told  me. 
She  ain't  happy  enough  to  have  any  friends,  please, 
sir,  leastways  I  don't  think  so,  please  sir." 

A  look  of  deep  pain  passed  over  Tom's  face  as 
the  child  finished  speaking,  and  Whanks  looked 
much  distressed. 

"  We  are  her  friends,"  said  Tom,  "  and  we  are 
anxious  to  know  at  which  number  of  the  street  you 
live." 

"  You  belong  to  Miss  Vander?  I'm  blowed  if  that 
don't  beat  all !  The  number  is  four,  the  'ouse  with 
the  yeller  blinds.  My  hi !  what  a  lark  !  "  and  Sally, 
in  her  ecstasy,  gave  a  hop  and  a  jump  round,  which 
spilt  the  beer  down  her  apron,  and  it  trickled  to  the 
floor.  Then  the  happiness  died  from  her  face,  and 
she  exclaimed  piteously,  ' '  What  will  the  missus  say  ? 
I  daren't  go  home  without  the  beer.  Oh,  dear  1  oh, 
dear  1 " 


278  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST, 

"See  here,"  said  Whanks,  "I  will  give  you  half-a- 
crown,  and  pay  for  the  beer,  if  you  will  help  us. 
Now,  what  time  of  the  night  should  we  find  Miss 
Vanda,  her  brother,  and  Mr.  Horrox  at  home,  and 
where  would  they  be  sitting  ?  " 

"  They  mostly  practises  until  eight  o'clock,  and 
then  sometimes  Mister  Horrox  goes  out  to  a  music 
'all.  Sometimes  they  goes  too  ;  sometimes  he  locks 
them  in  the  drawering-room  till  he  gits  back,  ever 
so  late.  They  never  gits  to  bed  until  after  twelve. 
I  'card  Mister  Horrox  tell  Miss  Vander  '  she  wasn't 
a-going  to  spend  her  time  in  bed,'  and  she  gits  up 
at  harlf-past  five — tain't  much  rest  after  a  clamber- 
ing over  them  bars  all  day,  and  she  looks  ever  so 
white,  but  Mr.  Horrox  don't  mind.  One  blessed 
night  he  come  'ome  from  the  music  'all  and  found 
Miss  Vander  asleep,  she  were  that  dead  tired  and  he 
just  did  whack  her  !  " 

"  Well,  look  here,  can  you  be  outside  the  house 
about  eight  this  evening  and  let  us  know  whether 
they  are  at  home  or  not  ? "  asked  Tom  with  great 
anxiety. 

"  No,  I'm  sure  I  can't,"  said  Sally  convincingly. 
"  I'd  be  nearly  murdered  if  they  caught  me  out  of  a 
hevening." 

"Can  you  give  us  any  sign  from  the  house?" 
asked  Whanks. 

Sally  thought  for  a  moment  and  then  she  said. — 

"  If  they's  at  home,  and  ail  tergether  in  the  drawer- 
ing-room, I'll  put  the  broom  out  of  the  top  winder 
and  twirdle  it  round  and  round,  and  if  you  stands 
under  the  lamp-post  oppersite  to  number  four  you'll 
see  it  hard  enough." 

"  Very  well,  and  if  we  see  the  broom  we  will  come 
to  the  front  door,  and  will  you  let  us  in  without 
ringing  or  knocking  ? "  said  Whanks  eagerly. 

"  Can't  do  that,  sir,  mightn't  be  able  to  git  to  the 
door  ;  but  when  I  twirdles  the  broom  I'll  drop  the 
latchkey  in  a  piece  of  paper,  and  one  of  you  gents 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  279 

must  look  in  the  gutter  for  it.  But  you  will  have 
to  look  sharp  'cause  I  musn't  contract  the  neigh- 
bours." 

Attract  she  meant,  but  Tom  and  Whanks  were  too 
full  of  business  to  notice  the  ludicrous  speech  of  the 
child  before  them. 

The  matter  seemed  arranged,  when  Sally  suddenly 
broke  in, — • 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  when  you  gits  in  to 
missis'  house  ?  'Cause  if  I'm  found  out  they'll  nearly 
kill  me,  I  know  they  will,"  said  the  child  in  dis- 
tress. 

"  We  are  going  to  fetch  Miss  Vanda  and  her 
brother,"  said  Tom,  "  and  if  you  will  really  help  us 
you  can  come  along  too,  so  just  have  your  bonnet 
and  cloak  handy,  for  everything  must  be  done 
quickly." 

"  You'll  take  me  along  of  Miss  Vander  ?  "  said  the 
child  aghast.  "Do  you  really  mean  that,  sir?" 

"  Yes,  child,  you  shall  go  too,  that  is,  if  you  carry 
out  your  promises  for  to-night." 

"  If  they's  at  home  I  shall,  and  when  you  gits  in 
you'll  find  the  drawering-room  the  furst  door  you 
comes  to  up  the  stairs.  Mister  Horrox  allus  makes 
a  goodish  rattle  with  the  latchkey,  and  if  you  does 
that  missus  will  thinks  it's  he."  Suddenly  she  looked 
at  the  clock.  'Lor'  'av'  mercy  !  it's  nearly  a  quarter 
to  two.  What  shall  I  do?  What  will  the  missus 
say,  and  Mister  Horrox  wanted  his  dinner  at  half- 
past  one  sharp?"  and  such  a  terrified  expression 
came  over  the  girl's  face  that  both  men  felt  ashamed 
of  the  time  they  had  kept  her,  and  Tom  said 
kindly, — 

"  Never  mind  ;  if  you  stand  by  us  you  \vill  be  off 
to-night  with  Miss  Vanda.  Be  brave  till  then,  and 
don't  forget  to-night  at  nine." 

The  child  nodded  her  head  and  hurried  off,  and 
the  two  men  went  out  of  the  bar. 

"  I  say,  George,   them's  a  queer  party.     They're 


280  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

planning-  something-  to-night  at  eight ;  I  hope  it  ain't 
a  murder,  or  an  elopement,  because  Sarah  Smith 
ain't  going  into  a  witness  box  at  the  court ;  it's  no 
fit  place  for  a  lady." 

"No  one  wants  you,  my  dear,"  answered  a  gruff 
voice.  ' '  If  they  were  planning  a  murder  they  wouldn't 
come  to  a  public-house,  and  if  it's  an  elopement  I 
hope  they  will  enjoy  it." 

At  five  minutes  to  eight  Tom  and  Whanks  loitered 
near  to  the  lamp-post  opposite  to  number  four.  The 
night  was  damp  after  a  recent  shower,  but  the  air 
was  close  for  the  season.  The  moon  peeped  out 
now  and  again  from  among  the  grey  scudding  clouds, 
and  shone  with  a  sickly  wan  light  upon  the  long 
row  of  dusky  houses. 

There  were  but  few  people  about  in  the  side  street. 
A  boy  passed  them,  yelling  "  Evening  paper,  special 
edition," but  Tom  and  Whanks  watched  number  four 
with  all  the  sharpness  of  experienced  detectives. 
They  saw  lights  were  burning  in  the  drawing-room 
and  basement,  but  all  the  other  windows  were  in 
darkness.  Suddenly  the  top  window  was  cautiously 
opened,  and  a  broorn  came  out  and  was  turned 
round  twice  quickly  and  then  disappeared,  but  no 
key  fell  with  the  ringing  sound  to  the  pavement 
beneath. 

Whanks  looked  in  dismay  at  Tom  and  said, — 

"She  has  forgotten  the  key." 

"I'd  much  rather  she  let  us  in,"  said  Tom. 
"  Breaking  into  another  person's  house  is  punishable 
by  law." 

"We  are  going  to  get  Miss  Leila's  children,  law 
or  no  law,"  said  Whanks  savagely. 

They  kept  their  watch  on  the  house  as  if  reluctant 
to  move,  when  Whanks  exclaimed  excitedly, — 

"The  front  door  is  open.  She  has  managed  that. 
Come  at  once." 

They  both  walked  boldly  in.  Sally  stood  in  the 
hall.  She  did  not  speak,  but  pointed  to  the  stairs. 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST.  28 1 

In  another  moment  Tom  and  Whanks  stood  facing 
Horrox  and  his  apprentices. 

"Who's  gone  upstairs,  Sally  ?  "  asked  her  mistress, 
half  muddled  with  gin. 

"Some  gents — friends  of  Miss  Vander's.  I'm 
going  up  to  set  the  supper  now." 

But  the  besotted  woman  did  not  reply,  and  Sally 
got  her  opportunity  to  get  upstairs.  Her  heart  beat, 
her  face  grew  crimson  as  she  made  her  way  to  the 
drawing-room  door  to  be  ready  to  go  if  they  really 
meant  to  take  her.  But  she  doubted  that,  poor 
child,  yet  she  would  hope  for  the  best.  The  gentle- 
men might  think  of  her. 

The  room  which  Whanks  and  Tom  entered  was 
large,  but  there  was  an  air  of  desolation,  which 
struck  them  in  a  moment.  They  saw  the  faded 
carpet,  the  dirty  curtains,  the  untidy  appearance  of 
the  apartment,  and  the  cheerless  air  which  pervaded 
the  whole  room.  In  an  easy-chair  sat  Horrox, 
fiercely  watching  the  movements  of  his  two  appren- 
tices, who  were  practising  some  stage  steps.  On  a 
chair  by  his  side  lay  the  white-thonged  whip.  Just 
as  Whanks  and  Tom  entered  a  fearful  oath  fell  from 
his  lips,  and  the  whip  had  curled  swiftly  round 
Vanda's  feet,  and  they  heard  her  smothered  cry  of 
anguish. 

"Who  are  you?"  roared  Horrox,  as  the  two  men 
stood  looking  at  him.  "Get  out  of  the  room  this 
minute  ;  how  dare  you  come  in  here?  Oh,  it's  you, 
is  it?  "  he  continued,  glancing  at  Whanks,  who  had 
stood  behind  Tom,  but  both  men  were  quick  enough 
to  perceive  that  he  grew  a  shade  paler  when  he 
recognised  his  visitor. 

"It's  Whanks!  it's  Whanks!"  cried  Vanda. 
"Adrian,  have  you  forgotten  Whanks?"  the  child 
cried  with  joy. 

"  Hold  your  tongue  !  "  cried  Horrox,  white  with 
passion  and  fear. 

"I've  come  for  you,    Miss  Vanda   and    Master 


282  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

Adrian,"  said  Whanks,  with  emotion  in  his  voice. 
He  could  hardly  speak,  so  terribly  unnerved  was  he 
to  see  the  thin,  haggard,  and  sad  faces  of  the  children 
he  loved  so  dearly. 

"Who  are  you?"  asked  Horrox,  coming  up  to 
Tom,  "and  what  the  devil  brought  you  here, 
Whanks  ? " 

"  I  am  the  uncle  of  those  two  wretched  children. 
Their  mother,  Leila  Castelli,  was  my  sister,  and  I 
have  come  to  claim  my  niece  and  nephew,  and  they 
leave  this  house  with  me  to-night." 

"Ah,  ah  !  I  daresay  you  think  you're  master  here, 
but  you  see  they  belong  to  me,  and  they  will  stay  in 
my  charge,"  said  Horrox. 

"We  shall  see  about  that.  Show  me  your  author- 
ity? Where  are  the  indentures  signed  by  their 
father?  I  demand  to  see  your  right  to  detain  these 
children.  If  you  have  none,  the  police  shall  be 
called  upon  at  once  to  act  in  this  matter,  for  you  are 
not  only  detaining  them  unlawfully  but  I  am  given 
to  understand  that  you  brutally  ill-use  them." 

"  You  want  my  authority  do  you  ?  Well,  you  shall 
have  that  right  enough.  It's  in  this  room,"  and  he 
moved  to  his  desk. 

"Vanda  and  Adrian,  come  here.  I  am  Uncle 
Tom.  You  must  remember  your  mother  speaking 
of  me,"  and  then  he  folded  her  in  his  arms  and  kissed 
her  fervently,  and  for  the  first  time  he  was  struck 
with  the  acute  misery  written  upon  her  face  ;  then 
he  tenderly  embraced  the  boy. 

When  Horrox  came  back  to  where  Tom  stood, 
Whanks  called  the  children  to  his  side  and  kissed 
them,  saying,  "Stand  by  me,  my  dears,  and  listen 
to  what  Uncle  Tom  is  saying." 

"There,  that  is  my  authority, "said  Horrox,  show- 
ing the  piece  of  paper  Le  Sale  had  signed. 

"That!  Why  it's  not  worth  the  ink  it's  written 
with.  Le  Sale  had  the  indentures,  not  you  ;  this 
paper  is  a  fraud,  a  lie.  The  children  are  not  yours. 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST.  283 

Look  at  them !  "  cried  Tom,  his  voice  quivering 
with  passion,  "  look  at  them,  I  say  !  Are  you  not 
ashamed  to  stand  there  and  face  me,  their  uncle? 
Can't  I  see  the  pain  you  have  inflicted  in  their  white, 
sad  faces  ?  Dare  you  tell  me  they  have  been  kindly 
treated  ?  You  are  a  villain,  a  consummate  scoundrel ; 
and  what  does  this  mean,  sir  ?  Is  this  the  instrument 
of  torture  you  have  used  on  these  hapless  children  ? 
Answer  me,  or  by I'll  throttle  you  as  you  stand  ! " 

Horrox  grew  livid.  He  looked  at  the  tall,  fine 
man  before  him  ;  he  saw  the  broad,  thick-set  shoul- 
ders and  the  powerful  build  of  the  sturdy  frame.  He 
was  a  gymnast,  yet  he  did  not  feel  inclined  to  show 
fight  with  the  angry  man. 

"Children,"  said  Tom  excitedly,  "has  this  man 
often  struck  you  with  this  ?  Tell  the  truth,  there  is 
nothing  to  fear.  You  belong  to  me,  and  to  your 
father.  Now,  speak  out." 

There  was  silence  for  a  moment.  Horrox  glared 
at  the  two  frightened  children,  and  then  Vanda  re- 
plied in  a  low  voice, — 

"Many  times  a  day." 

"  Deny  that  if  you  can,  you  villain  !  "  said  Tom  with 
passion.  "You've  meted  out  torture  to  two  helpless 
children,  now,  sir,  it's  your  turn,"  and  before  Hor- 
rox could  defend  himself  Tom  had  seized  him  by  the 
collar.  For  a  moment  there  was  a  struggle  between 
the  two  men,  but  Tom,  strong  as  a  lion,  after  years 
of  healthy  outdoor  life  in  the  Transvaal,  was  more 
than  a  match  for  the  trained  but  more  delicate  man 
before  him.  In  the  scuffle  Tom  dropped  his  thin 
cane,  but  Whanks  picked  it  up  and  handed  it  to 
him,  and  then  the  blows  came  down  mercilessly  on 
Horrox. 

"There,  you  coward,  how  do  you  like  that?" 
cried  Tom,  dealing  him  cut  after  cut.  The  children 
turned  deathly  white,  and  then  Whanks  opened  the 
door,  and  hurrying  them  downstairs,  called  to  Sally 
to  come  along  also,  and  hold  her  tongue.  A  moment 


284  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

afterwards  they  were  in  a  cab,  which  Tom  and 
Whanks  had  left  in  a  side  street.  All  was  so  quickly 
done  that  the  children  hardly  realised  that  they  were 
free.  They  were  soon  in  the  Stretford  Road,  and 
then  Whanks  called  to  the  cabman  to  stop.  He  got 
out,  and  walking  up  the  street,  entered  a  small  draper's 
shop,  and  stepping  up  to  the  counter,  he  said, — 

"  I  want  a  hat  for  a  girl.  I'm  going  to  London 
to-night,  and  I  want  to  take  a  present  to  my  niece. 
Look  sharp,  please." 

"What  size,  sir?"  asked  the  matter-of-fact  shop 
assistant. 

Whanks  hesitated,  he  had  never  thought  of  the  dif- 
ficulty of  size,  and  for  a  moment  he  did  not  know 
how  to  reply  satisfactory. 

"She's  thirteen,"  replied  Whanks  at  last,  evading 
the  direct  question. 

A  hat,  gloves,  and  ulster  were  also  selected  by 
the  aid  of  the  proprietor  of  the  shop,  and  Whanks 
returned  to  the  cab.  He  then  told  the  cabman  to 
drive  on  and  stop  at  the  first  shop  where  they  sold 
boys'  clothes.  These  clothes,  an  overcoat  and  hat, 
were  purchased  for  Adrian. 

"Now,  children,  pop  on  these  things  quickly.  We 
shall  be  at  the  station  directly." 

The  boy  did  as  he  was  told,  but  Vanda  neither 
spoked  nor  moved.-  She  had  fainted.  Whanks  was 
in  the  greatest  distress,  and  he  called  to  the  driver, — 

"Stop  at  the  next  public-house,"  and  then  he  went 
in  and  brought  her  a  glass  of  brandy  and  water. 

She  sipped  a  few  drops  and  opened  her  eyes  slowly. 

"You  are  with  Whanks,  darling.  Cheer  up,  and 
put  on  these  pretty  things.  We  are  going  to  Mrs.  Le 
Sale." 

"Going  away  !"  cried  Vanda,  almost  dazed  with 
joy.  "Are  we  really  going  ?  " 

"Yes,  you  and  Adrian,  and  Sally,  all  going  with 
me  and  Uncle  Tom." 

"Oh,  how  happy  I  am!     Adrian  kiss  me."     And 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  285 

the  children,  free  from  bondage,  hugged  one  another 
and  cried  for  joy,  and  Sally  said,  "Miss  Vander, 
Miss  Vander,  won't  you  kiss  me  ?  "  And  then  Vanda 
said,  "  Sally  you  have  been  my  friend,  we  must 
never  part  again,"  and  she  kissed  her  lovingly. 

Whilst  the  happy,  grateful  children  were  driving 
to  the  station  Tom  was  administering  what  he  de- 
scribed as  "  a  thundering  thrashing"  to  Horrox.  At 
last  he  let  go  his  hold,  and  striking  him  one  blow 
on  the  temple,  felled  him  to  the  ground  insensible. 
After  waiting  for  one  moment  to  see  that  he  had 
done  no  serious  injury,  he  marched  downstairs.  The 
landlady  had  heard  the  confusion,  and  she  discreetly 
locked  herself  in  her  sitting-room,  murmuring,  "  It's 
naught  to  do  with  me.  I  sha'n't  hinterfere." 

After  a  time  Horrox  recovered,  and  then  sat  down 
to  consider  what  was  the  best  thing  to  do. 

At  length  he  decided  to  leave  the  country. 

That  night  Vanda  and  Adrian  quitted  the  scenes  of 
their  unhappy  and  cruel  training,  the  faithful  Sally 
and  Uncle  Tom  and  dear  old  Whanks  giving  them 
the  most  unceasing  care.  Adrian,  tired  out,  slept, 
but  he  started  up  several  times,  as  if  afraid  of  a  blow 
or  a  harsh  word,  but  he  sighed  with  contentment  and 
fell  asleep  again  when  he  found  the  kindly  faces 
around  him  smiled  very  lovingly  at  him.  But  Vanda 
lay  back  white  and  weak,  fainting  twice  during  the 
journey.  Tenderly  they  chafed  the  small  thin  hands, 
and  Tom  supported  her  in  his  strong  arms  and  kissed 
her  many  times,  and  once  he  said  to  Whanks, — 

"I  feel  as  if  Leila  had  come  back  to  me.  See,  she 
has  the  same  fair  hair,  the  same  great  eyes.  Oh, 
Whanks,  what  do  I  owe  you?  "  and  he  gulped  down 
the  lump  that  would  rise. 

At  last  Vanda  slept,  and  then  Tom  told  Whanks  of 
the  hiding  he  had  given  to  Horrox,  and  both  men 
were  satisfied  that  he  had  met  his  deserts. 

When  they  reached  London  they  stayed  there  a 
night  to  give  the  children  time  to  recover,  and  after 


286  SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST. 

a  peaceful  rest  they  awoke  to  find  luxury  and  love 
instead  of  cruelty  and  hard  work. 

The  next  day  Mrs.  Le  Sale  came,  in  response  to 
a  telegram,  and  the  children  were  placed  in  her 
charge  to  be  nursed  and  tended  until  Tom  could  take 
them  to  Paris. 

Vanda  was  too  ill  to  say  much.  She  put  her  arms 
round  Mrs.  Le  Sale  and  whispered, 

"  Home,  it  is  home  at  last.  I  am  very  tired.  Can 
I  go  to  sleep  now  ? " 

They  left  her.  The  blinds  were  drawn,  the  room 
was  quiet,  and  Vanda  slept. 

Poor,  weary  girlhood,  there  was  peace  at  last. 

The  toil  was  ended. 

There  was  perfect  rest  for  Vanda. 

No  more  grief,  no  more  sorrow. 

Home  at  last  1 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  287 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  END. 

CASTELLI'S  engagement  at  Bombay  was  drawing  to  a 
close,  and  he  and  Cleo  were  preparing  to  sail  home- 
wards in  the  Contadina  when  Mrs.  Le  Sale's  letter 
came  to  hand.  He  read  it  carefully  many  times  over, 
and  then  he  questioned  Cleo. 

"Do  you  know  what  this  letter  means?  Did  you 
understand  that  Vanda  and  Adrian  had  left  Le  Sale 
and  gone  to  that  villain  Horrox?" 

He  kept  his  eyes  fixed  upon  her  as  he  spoke. 

"Don't  ask  me  such  ridiculous  questions,"  she 
replied  in  an  offhand  manner.  "Why  should  I 
know  more  than  you  do  about  your  own  children  ? 
You  surely  don't  expect  me  to  be  responsible  ?  " 

"Did  you  hear  of  Le  Sale's  death?"  he  asked, 
quite  ignoring  her  reply. 

"Did  you  ?  "  she  asked  evasively. 

"  No,"  he  replied  brusquely. 

"Then  why  should  I  have  done  so  ?" 

Cleo  was  far  too  cute  too  deny  her  share  in  the 
transaction  entirely,  because  she  was  not  sure  how 
far  Castelli  might  go  to  find  out  the  true  state  of  the 
case,  and  to  be  on  the  safe  side  as  long  as  possible 
was  a  necessity  ;  but  neither  would  she  own  that 
she  knew  anything  of  Le  Sale  or  his  death,  and  the 
subsequent  arrangements  with  regard  to  the  chil- 
dren, for  might  not  the  whole  thing  blow  over,  and 
then  she  would  not  stand  in  a  false  light  either 
way. 

Like  all  who  commit  dark  deeds,  she  fancied 
her  secret  safe  in  the  keeping  of  an  unscrupulous 


288  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

man.  She  forgot,  as  others  forget,  that  the  day  of 
retribution  must  come,  that  the  glare  of  the  light 
must  sooner  or  later  lay  bare  her  sin  in  all  its  heinous- 
ness.  But  she  never  thought  of  that. 

Castelli  said  very  little,  but  he  was  quite  deter- 
mined to  sift  the  matter  to  the  bottom,  and  so  sure 
he  was  that  Cleo  was  in  some  way  mixed  up  in  the 
affair  that  he  could  no  longer  treat  her  in  the  old 
familiar  style,  and  a  coldness  sprang  up  between 
them  which  all  Cleo's  smiles  and  attentions  failed  to 
disperse. 

A  week  before  they  sailed  Castelli  received  a  tele- 
gram from  Whanks.  It  ran  : — 

"When  do  you  return?  Children  with  uncle. 
Whanks,  Falcon  Hotel,  Sel Chester." 

To  this  Castelli  replied  : — 

"Sail  Contadina.     Meet  me  Selchester." 

After  the  receipt  of  the  telegram  Castelli  re- 
marked : — 

"Well,  Whanks  will  soon  find  out  the  whole  thing, 
if  he  hasn't  by  this.  I  suppose  that  confounded 
aunt  of  his  has  left  him  a  pot  of  money." 

"  Well,  don't  you  remember  Ringens  told  us  that 
he  had  made  thousands  with  your  wife's  brother  on 
the  diamond  fields.  But  why  he  interferes  with 
your  children /can't  understand,"  Cleo  added  in  a 
disagreeable  tone. 

Castelli  knew  only  too  well.  He  could  call  to 
mind  how  devoted  a  servant  Whanks  had  been  to 
his  dead  wife,  and  how  he  bestowed  much  love  on 
her  children,  but  to  Cleo  he  only  remarked  rudely, — 

"  It  is  nothing  to  do  with  you  ;  I  am  much  obliged 
to  him." 

"Ah  !  that's  because  he  is  a  rich  man  ;  if  he  had 
been  still  your  groom  your  thanks  would  have  been 
pretty  scarce  I'm  thinking,"  she  added  saucily. 

During  the  voyage  he  took  but  little  notice  of  her 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  289 

beyond  the  merest  civilities.  Both  of  them  were  go- 
ing direct  to  Selchester  to  fulfil  a  long  engagement 
This  Whanks  had  found  out  through  Castelli's  agents, 
and  there  he  determined  to  return  at  such  time  as 
Castelli  arrived.  Vanda  and  Adrian  were  in  Paris  in 
the  kind  care  of  their  uncle  and  Mrs  Le  Sale,  and 
later  he  received  very  cheerful  letters  from  them. 
One  in  particular,  which  came  from  Tom,  announced 
his  engagement  to  Fanny  Herepath. 

"I  met  her  in  Pans,"  he  wrote,  "and  now  all  is 
settled  and  I  am  a  happy  man." 

"So  Mr.  Tom  is  going  to  be  'spliced/  is  he? 
Well,  God  bless  him  !  I  hope  he  will  be  happier  than 
poor  Miss  Leila  was.  But  I'm  wondering  if  he  will 
have  the  children  when  he's  married.  Well,  if  he 
don't,  I  will,"  he  murmured. 

When  Castelli  and  Cleo  arrived  in  England  they 
started  at  once  for  Selchester,  and  then  Castelli  made 
rather  a  startling  proposition  to  Cleo. 

"  I'm  going  to  put  up  at  the  Falcon  Hotel,  Cleo, 
for  a  day  or  so,  and  you  had  better  go  into  private 
apartments  ;  Miss  Taylor  may  have  the  same  rooms 
again.  I  can't  have  you  at  the  hotel  with  me,"  he 
added  positively. 

"And,  pray,  why  not?  I  suppose  I  am  good 
enough  company  for  your  late  groom — the  hotel  is 
as  much  for  me  as  for  you.  It's  public  to  all  who 
can  pay,  and  you  can't  keep  me  out,"  she  cried 
excitedly. 

"  I  can't,  but  your  character  can,"  he  remarked 
with  a  sneer.  "  You've  been  in  Selchester  too  many 
times  to  pose  as  a  saint  ;  take  my  advice  and  don't 
go  to  the  Falcon  or  they  may  refuse  to  take  you  in, 
and  that  wouldn't  be  pleasant  for  you." 

"You're  a  beauty,"  she  stormed.  "It's  pretty 
cool  to  tell  me  that  you  can  go  where  /  can't.  If  I 
am  a  sinner,  I  bet  you  are  a  greater,  and  surely 
where  the  devil  can  go  his  angels  can,"  she  cried 
angrily. 


2  go 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST. 


"Well,  you  won't  go  with  me.  I  believe  you 
have  deceived  me  all  through,  and  until  I  hear  what 
Whanks  can  tell  me  we  are  best  apart.  Someone 
has  lied,  and  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  it  is  you.  At 
any  rate,  Cleo,  you  must  look  out  for  yourself,"  he 
added  without  relenting. 

"Thanks,"  she  replied  with  sarcasm,  "I  will." 

Castelli  had  not  expected  Cleo  to  take  his  decision 
so  quietly.  But  she  had  a  good  reason  fordoing  so. 
For  some  days  she  had  been  wondering  how  she 
could  get  out  of  the  meeting  between  Castelli  and 
Whanks.  She  knew  he  would  probably  accuse  her 
of  a  great  deal  which  she  knew  to  be  true,  but  which 
would  bring  down  Castelli's  wrath.  She  would 
rather  put  off  the  evil  day,  for  she  dreaded  what 
she  knew  must  be  the  result  if  Horrox  had  "  split  " 
upon  her,  a  parting  from  her  handsome  lover  ;  there- 
fore it  suited  her  best  to  be  out  of  the  way  until  the 
affair  had  tided  over.  But  she  played  her  part  so 
well  that  even  Castelli  was  unaware  of  her  wishes, 
and  he  hoped  that  he  was  meting  out  a  just  punish- 
ment to  her  by  declining  to  have  her  with  him  as  his 
companion.  Unwittingly  he  assisted  her  to  carry 
out  just  the  plan  she  desired. 

And  so  each  of  them  went  their  several  ways. 

When  Castelli  and  Whanks  met,  the  greeting  to 
each  other  was  somewhat  cool.  Both  of  them  felt 
how  much  had  happened  since  last  they  saw  each 
other.  Whanks  recalled  to  Castelli  his  dead  wife, 
whilst  the  presence  of  his  old  master  brought  back 
to  Whanks  the  vision  of  a  beautiful,  happy  girl  on 
the  seashore  at  Sandcliffe,  afterwards  of  a  palefaced, 
weary  woman,  dying  of  a  broken  heart,  and  he 
could  not  put  out  his  hand  and  welcome  him,  as  the 
old  servant  felt  he  should  like  to  have  done. 

When  Castelli  thanked  him  for  being  the  means  of 
helping  the  children,  Whanks  replied, — 

"  What  has  been  done  by  me  and  Mr.  Tom  has 
been  done  for  Miss  Leila's  sake." 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  291 

Castelli  winced.  He  felt  the  implied  rebuke,  but 
he  made  no  reply,  and  a  silence  fell  on  the  two  men. 

At  last  Whanks  spoke. 

"It's  better,  sir,  that  you  should  know  just  how 
things  were  after  poor  Le  Sale's  death,  and  then  you 
can  judge  what  is  best  to  be  done." 

The  two  men  sat  down,  and  Whanks  told  Castelli 
the  history  of  Tom  and  his  going  to  Selchester,  how 
Tom  had  thrashed  Horrox  unmercifully,  and  how 
the  coward  in  his  fright  had  begged  for  mercy,  put- 
ting the  chief  blame  upon  Cleo. 

"It  appears,"  said  Whanks,  "that  Cleo  and  Horrox 
were  hand  and  glove  in  the  affair  from  the  begin- 
ning. The  villain  paid  her  for  her  share  of  the  tran- 
saction, and  getting  your  consent  to  sending  them  to 
Le  Sale  was  the  beginning  of  the  cruel  scheme." 

"The  devil  !  "  muttered  Castelli. 

"Yes,  she  is  devil  enough  and  to  spare.  It  broke 
my  heart  to  see  those  children,  Miss  Leila's,  worn  as 
thin  as  laths,  and  looking  like  death  itself.  They've 
been  treated  most  shamefully.  I'm  not  sure  as  Miss 
Van  da  will  live  long.  It's  pretty  nigh  killed  her, 
sir." 

Castelli  turned  white  as  Whanks  spoke,  but  it  was 
with  anger  more  than  regret  for  his  children's  suffer- 
ings. 

"I  have  done  with  her  for  ever — for  ever,"  he 
hissed. 

"She's  a  bad  lot,  sir,  take  my  word  on  it,  sir. 
She  will  bring  you  more  trouble  than  joy.  You'd 
best  rid  yourself  of  her  once  and  for  all,"  said  Whanks 
boldly. 

Castelli  did  not,  as  of  old,  tell  Whanks  to  mind 
his  own  business.  He  was  a  rich  man  now,  and  no 
longer  the  drunken  servant  of  the  old  days. 

"I  intend  to,"  said  Castelli  angrily.  "  Cleo  and  I 
have  done  with  one  another  from  to-day." 

"I  hope  you'll  keep  to  that,  sir,  for  Miss  Leila's 
sake.  She'd  have  fretted  had  she  known  how  things 


292  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

had  turned.  God  bless  her  !  But  the  children  are 
safe  enough  now,  and  Mr.  Tom  and  I  will  be  glad 
when  you  can  go  over  and  settle  things.  Somehow 
Mr.  Tom  and  I  don't  like  the  idea  of  parting  with 
them,"  said  Whanks  anxiously. 

"  I  daresay  they  can  stay  with  you,"  said  Castelli 
rather  vaguely.  "But  where  is  that  villain  Horrox? 
He  and  Cleo  must  be  polished  off  before  I  think  of 
the  children." 

"  I've  been  inquiring.  He's  gone  abroad — bolted. 
I  guess  he  is  in  America.  He  used  to  hang  out  there 
a  good  deal  at  one  time.  He  actually  owned  that 
he  sent  a  telegram  to  Cleo  the  very  day  he  got  the 
children  into  his  power." 

In  a  moment  flashed  across  Castelli's  mind  the 
receipt  of  a  telegram  by  Cleo  which  she  had  de- 
clined to  show  him.  He  had  no  doubt  now  as  to 
whom  it  came  from,  and  his  face  grew  whiter  still 
with  passion  as  Whanks  ceased  speaking. 

"Well,  I'll  go  down  to  the  circus,"  he  said,  his 
voice  trembling  with  rage.  "I'll  go  and  see  what 
she  has  to  say  for  herself,  the  devil  !  and  if  ever  I 
catch  Horrox  there  will  be  murder,  as  sure  as  I  stand 
here.  Here,  give  me  my  hat.  Give  it  me  at  once," 
he  added  with  his  old  peremptory  manner,  forget- 
ting in  his  anger  that  Whanks  was  not  his  servant  to 
do  his  behests. 

But  Whanks  did  as  he  was  asked,  and  did  not  at- 
tempt to  interfere  with  the  irate  man. 

Castelli  went  to  the  circus,  more  of  a  fiend  than  a 
man  in  his  terrible  passion. 

Whilst  this  was  going  on  in  Selchester  Tom  and 
the  children  were  in  Paris,  awaiting  the  coming  of 
Castelli  and  Whanks,  when  Tom  was  going  to  make 
the  former  a  definite  offer  for  the  charge  of  Vanda 
and  Adrian.  After  much  persuasion  on  the  part  of 
Tom,  Mrs.  Le  Sale  had  consented  to  leave  her  chil- 
dren with  her  married  sister  and  come  with  them  all 
to  France. 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 


293 


"The  children  must  have  someone  with  them," 
said  Tom.  "  Look  how  ill  Vanda  is." 

"Ill,  I  should  think  she  is  !  It  will  take  months 
and  months  before  the  marks  of  that  fiend's  terrible 
lash  disappear.  She  is  terribly  scarred  and  marked, 
and  so  is  Adrian.  I  think  Horrox  ought  to  have  been 
put  in  prison,  that  I  do ;  but  as  to  going  to  Paris,  I 
don't  know,  it  seems  to  me  an  awful  journey.  What 
with  crossing  the  sea,  and  the  language  being  all  of  a 
muddle,  and  my  children  left  behind,  is  more  than  I 
can  lean  to,"  said  Mrs.  Le  Sale. 

But  eventually  Tom  persuaded  her  to  make  ar- 
rangements and  come  for  a  few  days,  until  he  could 
find  someone  else  to  be  with  them. 

"Would  you  leave  them  motherless  and  ill,  with 
only  me  to  look  after  them  ? "  asked  Tom  gently. 

This  speech  touched  Mrs.  Le  Sale's  motherly  heart, 
and  she  exclaimed, — 

"I'm  sure  poor  Le  Sale  would  have  told  me  to 
look  after  Vanda ;  he  thought  a  world  of  Vanda. 
Yes,  I'll  go  if  the  sea  is  the  death  of  me,  so  that's 
agreed,"  and  she  went  to  try  and  nurse  back  life  and 
spirits  to  the  two  almost  heartbroken  children. 

One  evening  Vanda  was  resting  on  the  sofa  in  a 
pleasant  room  at  the  Grand  Hotel  in  Paris.  Mrs. 
Le  Sale  was  sitting  by  her,  when  she  said  suddenly, — 

"  Do  you  think  many  children  are  treated  like  we 
were,  Mrs.  Le  Sale  ?  Sometimes  I  cannot  sleep  for 
thinking  of  it." 

Adrian  was  sitting  at  the  table,  once  more  at  his 
beloved  drawing.  He  had  almost  forgotten  the 
hardships  of  the  past,  although  his  face  looked  very 
thin  and  white.  He  looked  up  as  Vanda  spoke,  as  if 
her  words  recalled  the  days  of  horror  and  misery. 

"  Don't  worry  about  that,  Vanda,"  said  Mrs.  Le 
Sale  kindly.  "There's  very  few  in  the  world  as 
cruel  as  Mr.  Horrox.  You  see,  my  dear,  he  hated 
your  poor  dear  mother,  and  so  he  had  his  spite  on 
you. " 


294  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

"But  the  masters  are  not  kind,  are  they,  even  if 
they  are  not  as  bad  as  Horrox? "  inquired  Vanda, 
not  to  be  put  off. 

"  Well,  my  dear,  Le  Sale  was,  but  I  am  afraid 
there's  few  like  him.  They  have  to  be  strict,  and 
keep  their  apprentices  hard  at  work.  You  see  the 
people  go  to  circuses  to  be  amused,  and  so  the  chil- 
dren must  be  made  to  do  their  work  properly.  Hor- 
rox would  have  been  kinder  if  it  hadn't  been  for  his 
grudge  against  your  mother ;  but  it's  a  dreadful  life 
for  a  girl — hard,  cruel,  terrible.  My  children  won't 
.go  in  for  it,  I'll  take  good  care,"  said  Mrs.  Le  Sale 
with  deep  feeling. 

"Can't  anything  be  done  to  help  the  children, 
Mrs.  Le  Sale  ?  Will  no  one  save  them  ? "  said  Vanda 
in  real  distress. 

"  I've  heard  some  people  are  trying,  but  it  will  be 
uphill  work.  The  public  won't  believe — don't  want 
to.  They're  afraid  it  may  cost  them  something. 
They  like  to  offer  opinions,  but  when  it  comes  to 
helping  those  who  have  done  the  work  they  don't 
see  it,"  replied  Mrs.  Le  Sale.  "If  the  hardships 
could  be  stopped  without  touching  their  pockets, 
they  would  gladly  cry  out  against  it.  But  no,  no, 
my  dear,  the  children  may  work  and  toil  to  the  end 
if  it  is  likely  to  cost  them  a  fiver." 

"I  wish  I  had  some  money,"  replied  Vanda 
wearily,  a  flush  of  pain  spreading  over  her  thin,  wan 
face. 

Mrs.  Le  Sale  noticed  the  change,  and  she  said 
hastily, — 

"Try  and  rest  now,  Vanda.  You  know  the  doctor 
told  you  this  morning  not  to  worry  or  the  nervous 
attack  would  return,  and  then  your  uncle  would  be  so 
vexed.  Don't  think  any  more  about  it  just  now,  my 
dear,"  said  Mrs.  Le  Sale. 

Just  as  she  finished  speaking  the  door  opened,  and 
Tom  came  into  the  room,  behind  him  came  a  bash- 
ful, blushing  girl. 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  29$ 

"  Vanda,"  said  Tom,  "  this  is  Miss  Fanny  Herepath, 
my  future  wife.  She  has  promised  to  be  your  friend  ; 
haven't  you,  Fanny?"  asked  Tom,  turning  to  her. 

"I  shall  do  my  best.  May  I  kiss  you,  Vanda?" 
and  she  stooped  down  and  caressed  her  affection- 
ately. "And  will  Adrian  kiss  me  too?"  she  asked, 
going  up  to  where  the  boy  sat. 

He  put  his  arm  about  her  neck,  and  pursed  up  his 
mouth  for  a  kiss. 

"Are  you  going  to  live  with  us?  "  he  asked. 

"Some  day,  I  hope,"  she  answered  quietly. 

Mrs.  Le  Sale  motioned  to  Sally  to  leave  the  room 
with  her :  she  felt  sure  Mr.  Tom  had  something  to 
say,  and  when  they  were  gone  he  told  Vanda  and 
Adrian  the  story  of  his  love  ;  how  he  had  seen  Fanny 
Herepath  many  years  before,  and  how  they  had 
hoped  to  meet  again  some  day  ;  how  Fanny's  father 
had  returned  to  England  a  rich  man  once  more  and 
her  brother  was  studying  art  in  Paris  ;  and  how  they 
had  all  met  in  the  great  city,  and  that  he  and  Fanny 
would  be  married  soon,  and  there  would  be  a  home 
for  them  both,  if  Castelli  would  accept  a  proposed 
offer. 

"  But  what  will  become  of  Whanks  and  Sally  ?  I 
shouldn't  like  to  leave  them,"  pleaded  Vanda. 

"Whanks  will  settle  that  himself.  He  is  as  rich 
as  I  am,  Vanda.  I  cannot  make  him  go  with  us 
unless  he  wishes  it ;  but,  of  course,  Sally  must  go,  and 
learn  to  wait  upon  you  and  Adrian.  You  see  we 
must  get  a  governess  for  you  both  at  home,  unless 
your  father  wishes  to  take  you  with  him,  and,  of 
course,  he  has  the  first  claim — nothing  can  be  de- 
cided until  he  comes,"  said  Tom. 

"I  am  glad  you  are  going  to  be  married,  uncle. 
I  hope  you  will  both  be  very,  very  happy,"  she  said 
wearily. 

The  tone  struck  Fanny  and  Tom  painfully,  and 
both  of  them  drew  near  to  the  sofa  and  looked  at  the 
lovely  face,  so  white  and  sad. 


296  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.' 

"Do  you  feel  more  than  usually  tired,  Vanda 
dear  ?  "  asked  Tom  with  anxiety. 

"No,  uncle  dear,  only  the  life  seems  gone  out  of 
me.  I  wonder  if  I  shall  ever  feel  happy  again.  It 
all  seems  different,  even  Adrian  is  not  the  same/' 
she  said,  smiling-  languidly  at  her  brother. 

"Do  you  hear  that,  Adrian?"  said  Fanny  Here- 
path;  "come  and  kiss  her,  and  tell  her  you  love 
her  just  as  much  as  ever." 

The  boy  came,  and  flushed  painfully  when  he 
stooped  to  kiss  her,  saying, — 

"Of  course  I  love  you,  Vanda  dear." 

"Yes,  you  love  me,"  replied  Vanda,  "but  some- 
how it  doesn't  seem  the  same,"  she  added,  with  deep 
regret  in  her  voice. 

"Oh,  you'll  soon  be  better,  and  then  it  will  appear 
just  the  same,"  said  Fanny  cheerfully.  "And  now 
I  shall  wish  you  good-bye  until  to-morrow,  when  I 
will  call  again,  if  I  may." 

Vanda  smiled,  and  Fanny  kissed  her  again,  and 
from  that  night  a  very  deep  friendship  arose  between 
the  two — a  friendship  which  was  to  make  life  very 
pleasant  for  Vanda  after  the  shadows  which  had 
marred  it  for  so  long. 

Later  that  night  Tom,  full  of  anxious  love  for  his 
dead  sister's  child,  tried  his  best  to  find  out  from 
Vanda  what  trouble  lay  upon  her  mind,  and  her 
reason  for  supposing  her  brother's  love  to  be  altered  ; 
but  to  all  his  inquiries  she  only  replied, — 

"  It  is  different ;  there  is  something  come  between 
us.  It  can  never  be  the  same." 

Vanda  did  not  tell  her  uncle  what  that  sad  "  some- 
thing" was,  but  she  knew,  poor  child,  that  the  de- 
gradation of  their  training  together — the  hardships 
and  punishments  which  they  had  undergone  in  each 
other's  presence — had  caused  a  natural  'shyness  to 
arise  between  them,  and  the  memory  of  those  days 
would  do  away  for  ever  with  the  old  familiar  and 
innocent  love. 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST.  297 

True  brotherly  and  sisterly  affection,  deep  and 
lasting,  would  always  exist  between  them,  but  alas  ! 
the  early  love  was  gone,  degradation  had  ruined 
that ;  it  could  not  return  if  it  would. 

To  how  many  other  girls  now  training  in  mixed 
troupes  of  men  and  boys,  does  this  terrible  feeling 
of  "something"  gone  arise  to  them.  As  to  Vanda, 
that  something  means  loss  of  the  purity  and  sweet- 
ness of  girlhood,  and  of  that  priceless  gift  of  modesty 
which  dies  for  ever  in  those  poor  hapless  girls  whose 
limbs  are  daily  distorted  and  bent  into  unnatural 
shapes  by  brutal  and  coarse  masters. 

Oh,  the  misery  and  sin  of  a  system  which  permits 
young  girls  to  suffer  such  terrible  pain  so  that  the 
people  may  take  their  pleasure. 

It  exists  to-day,  to-morrow — it  is  going  on  novf. 

And  will  the  people  dare  still  to  plead  ignorance? 

Very  likely. 


2g8  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

DEATH  UNSEEN. 

CASTELLI  left  Whanks  and  strode  down  to  the  circus, 
prepared  to  deal  with  Cleo  as  she  fully  deserved. 

He  knew  he  should  find  her  there. 

His  passion  was  fearful,  it  raged  within  him  like 
an  angry  sea,  and  maddened  him  with  its  giant 
power.  He  was  ready  to  spring  upon  his  prey  with 
all  the  fury  of  his  fierce  nature,  for  Cleo  had  de- 
ceived him,  lied  to  him  for  the  gratification  of  her  pas- 
sion, and  he  had  been  her  lover.  These  truths  filled 
him  with  rage.  Terrible  he  looked,  with  flashing 
eyes,  his  strong  feelings  magnified  to  desperation  as 
he  confronted  her  practising  in  the  ring. 

She  saw  him  coining,  and  she  advanced  to  meet 
him  with  a  bright  smile.  She  knew  Castelli  had  a 
faint  suspicion  that  she  had  helped  Horrox  to  pro- 
cure the  children,  but  there  had  been  no  facts  to  es- 
tablish any  actual  evidence  against  her,  and  only 
once  during  the  voyage  home  had  he  alluded  to 
Mrs.  Le  Sale's  letter,  and  then  he  had  said, — 

"  I  believe  you  know  more  of  this  than  you  choose 
to  admit;  but  I  shall  find  it  out,  cost  what  it 
may." 

Now  he  had  seen  Whanks,  she  thought,  more  than 
likely  Horrox  had  "split,"  "for  he  was  always  a 
coward, "said  Cleo  to  herself,  remembering  his  fright 
when  Leila  had  taken  out  a  summons  against  him. 
"  He  hadn't  the  pluck  to  go  to  the  court  and  deny 
the  whole  thing." 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST. 


299 


He  stood  facing  her ;  she  was  alone,  for  the  circus 
was  deserted,  but  she  did  not  flinch  from  his  glitter- 
ing eyes,  which  flashed  upon  her  full  of  hate  and 
scorn. 

She  knew  her  game  was  up,  she  read  her  fate  in 
his  wrath,  which  was  reflected  in  his  trembling  voice, 
in  the  clenching  of  the  hands,  in  the  livid  workings 
of  his  white,  set  face. 

She  drew  herself  quite  erect  and  looked  at  him 
calmly.  Grand  in  her  splendid  beauty,  she  never 
quailed  ;  but  there  was  a  light  in  her  lustrous  eyes 
which  spoke  of  revenge  hiding  beneath  their  depths, 
of  some  baffled  strife  which  might  wake  suddenly  and 
crush  with  its  force  the  might  and  mystery  of  life. 

She  was  prepared  for  the  battle.  She  had  no 
terror  of  the  furious  man  before  her,  even  when  his 
anger  came  towering  upon  her  with  relentless  fury, 
like  the  autumn  boreas  which  carries  all  before  it, 
blustering,  hurrying,  rushing,  booming  on  its  way. 
She  smiled  like  the  bright  ray  which  shines  when  the 
storm  has  gone.  It  suited  her  to  suppress  her  wrath 
until  his  had  burst  and  passed  away. 

She  might  appease  him  once  more.  She  could  not 
lose  him  for  ever. 

"You  impostor!  you  liar!  you  cheat!"  at  last 
came  from  his  opening  lips.  "  I've  found  you  out, 
you  false  hypocrite !  It  was  you,  was  it,  who 
planned  the  dastardly  act  of  taking  my  children  from 
the  home  I  chose  for  them  ?  I  understand  now  why 
you  persuaded  me  to  part  \vith  them  to  Le  Sale.  It 
was  the  first  step  in  your  fiendish  design,  the  first 
step,  I  say,  towards  having  revenge  on  my  dead 
wife.  You  and  your  brutal  lover  thought  to  baffle 
me  with  your  devilish  lies,  but  the  hour  of  reckon- 
ing is  at  hand.  I'll  set  sleuth-hounds  on  his  track. 
He  shall  be  done  to  death  !  "  he  cried  in  his  violent 
excitement. 

She  made  no  reply,  and  this  provoked  him  to 
frenzy,  and  he  continued  furiously, — 


300  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

"  You  who  have  pretended  to  love  me,  you  who 
came  grovelling  to  my  feet,  you  fiend  !  you  she-devil  I 
what  have  you  to  say  ?  "  he  cried,  distraught  with 
passion. 

The  vigour  of  his  vehement  speech  did  not  take 
her  by  surprise.  She  knew  of  the  temper  which  so 
often  distorted  his  fine  face  and  made  him  a  terror 
to  those  in  his  power.  At  such  times  she  expected 
no  softening  in  his  humour.  He  was  too  desperate, 
too  insulting  to  listen  to  reason.  But  she  was  not 
prepared  to  give  him  up.  She  must  win  him  back 
to  her  side.  His  displeasure  must  be  removed  from 
her,  so  she  said  sweetly, — 

"  You  are  too  hard  upon  me,  Castelli.  Listen  to 
me/'  and  she  moved  a  few  steps  nearer  to  him,  but 
he  waved  her  back  rapidly,  as  if  her  presence  stung 
him  into  unbounded  hate. 

"  Stay  where  you  are.  Don't  come  a  step  nearer," 
he  cried.  "  I  loathe  the  sight  of  you." 

"  No,  no,  Castelli,  you  don't.  Love  can't  change 
like  that.  You're  making  a  deal  more  of  it  than  you 
need.  The  precious  children  are  alive  and  well," 
she  said,  trying  to  modify  his  anger. 

"  Love,  don't  talk  to  me  of  love!  Curse  you  and 
your  love  !  They  might  have  died  for  all  you  cared, 
you  she-devil  !  I  know  how  you  intercepted  letters 
and  papers,  and  kept  Le  Sale's  death  a  secret,  so  that 
your  cowardly  plans  could  be  carried  out  to  revenge 
yourself  on  my  wife.  You  and  Horrox  are  devils — 
devils  !  "  he  thundered. 

"  I  deny  it  all,"  replied  Cleo  quietly. 

"  Don't  lie  to  me,  or  by  heaven  I'll  do  for  you  ! 
Why,  you  received  money  from  that  villain  for  help- 
ing him.  Can  you  deny  that?"  asked  Castelli  with 
an  oath. 

"  Who  told  you  I  received  money?"  asked  Cleo 
uneasily,  wondering  how  that  part  of  the  bargain 
had  transpired. 

Castelli's  brow  darkened,  his  eyes  flashed  angrily. 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  301 

"  Who  told  me  ?  Why,  your  dastardly  lover.  He 
put  the  blame  on  you  when  his  own  neck  was  in 
danger,  the  cur.  But  if  I  can  find  him  I'll  kill  him 
with  one  stroke,  and  you  after  him,"  he  said  with 
violence. 

"  That  would  be  murder,  Castelli ;  you  can't  mean 
that  ? "  said  Cleo. 

"  Murder  is  too  good  for  either  of  you, "he  added, 
"  I  shall  go  and  search  for  him,  and  his  fate  will  be 
death.  I  shall  stab  him  through  and  through  for 
— for — Leila's  sake."  His  voice  grew  more  quiet  as 
he  uttered  the  dead  wife's  name. 

"  Castelli,  do  be  quiet ;  you  are  going  a  sight  too 
far.  It  is  simply  absurd  to  talk  like  that.  What  I 
did  was  to  save  you  worry.  I  did  for  them  as  if  I 
were  their  mother,  you " 

In  a  moment  he  strode  up  to  her  and  caught  her 
arm  roughly,  shaking  her  with  brutal  force. 

"  You,  like  their  mother  !"  he  hissed.  "  You,  a 
scheming  woman,"  and  he  flung  her  from  him,  "  a 
woman  with  as  many  lovers  as  days  in  the  year. 
She  was  good  and  pure,  whilst  you  are  as  bad  as  the 
devil  can  make  you,"  he  said  frantically. 

"  You  didn't  treat  her  as  if  she  was  such  a  treasure," 
replied  Cleo  with  sarcasm,  for  she  was  angry  now, 
but  she  kept  her  temper  under  control. 

He  put  out  his  hand  to  deal  her  a  terrible  blow. 
She  saw  the  action,  and  evaded  it  quickly,  saying, — 

"  I  am  going,  until  you  are  less  mad  and  can 
behave  not  quite  like  a  fool  or  a  lunatic." 

"Oh,  no,  you  are  not;  I  haven't  done  with  you 
yet  Look  here,"  and  he  lowered  his  voice  and  spoke 
slowly  and  remorselessly,  "  you  have  longed  after 
my  love  for  years,  you  took  it  freely  when  I  had  a 
wife,  you  would  take  it  to  the  end,  but — but  from 
this  day  forth  you  dare  to  darken  my  steps  and  I'll 
shoot  you  as  I  would  a  dog.  I've  done  with  you. 
You've  been  confoundedly  jealous  of  'Darkie,'  well, 
I  am  going  to  make  her  my  wife,  and  if  I  catch  you 


302 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 


dogging  me  about  I'll  put  a  bullet  through  your 
heart  Now,  get  off,  and  never  you  come  near  me 
again.  Be  off,  I  say  !  "  he  cried  wrathfully. 

He  had  touched  her  at  last,  he  knew  how  jealous 
she  was,  and  it  pleased  him  to  probe  the  wound  he 
had  made. 

"You  are  going  to  marry  'Darkie'  the  rider?" 
she  asked,  her  face  flushing.  "  Well,  I  hope  you 
will  be  happy,"  as  a  strange  look  overspread  her 
features. 

A  change  had  come  over  her  face;  it  was  not 
yearning  love,  it  was  not  despair. 

What  was  it? 

"  You  are  a  brute  and  a  savage,"  she  replied,  and 
then  she  turned  and  left  him. 

The  next  day  she  went  again  to  the  circus  to  seek 
Castelli.  He  might  be  there,  for  both  of  them  had 
been  engaged  for  the  season. 

"  I'll  give  him  another  chance  one  more — only 
one, "she  murmured. 

Her  plans  were  ready,  and  she  intended  to  put 
them  into  effect  without  delay.  She  watched  him 
from  a  safe  distance,  and  she  saw  him  enter  a 
dressing-room  where  he  had  left  his  overcoat  and 
stick. 

In  a  moment  she  followed  him. 

"Castelli!" 

His  face  darkened,  his  passion  rose  again  when 
he  saw  her  there.  Beautiful  but  evil  she  looked 
standing  before  him  with  her  long  artistic  cloak 
clinging  around  her  shapely  form. 

"  You  here  again  !  Do  you  want  me  to  shoot  you?  " 
he  asked,  speaking  rapidly. 

"  Answer  me  one  question,  Castelli,  and  we  shall 
never  trouble  each  other  again."  Her  eyes  grew 
fixed  on  his  face  as  she  continued  :  "  Are  you  going 
to  marry  '  Darkie  '  ?  Is  it  all  over  between  you  and 
me  ? "  she  said  slowly,  never  moving  her  eyes  from 
his  face. 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 


303 


"  Yes,  we  are  strangers  for  ever.  Go,  woman, 
begone  !  "  and  he  glared  at  her  fiercely. 

"Are  you  going  to  marry  'Darkie'?"  she  per- 
sisted. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied. 

"  Do  you  mean  that?  " 

"  Yes.     Get  out  of  my  way,  you  brazen  devil !  " 

"  You  mean  that  too?"  Her  voice  quivered  with 
suppressed  passion  and  excitement.  She  went  close 
up  to  him,  so  near  that  he  could  see  her  agitation. 

"  Will  you  be  gone,  or  by  heaven  I'll  do  for  you 
in  another  minute,"  he  stormed. 

Still  she  kept  her  eyes  fixed  on  him,  but  her  hand 
moved  stealthily  trom  behind  her  cloak.  There  was 
a  glitter  of  steel — a  white  arm  raised — a  groan — a 
stream  of  blood — a  voice  full  of  mad  impulse,  cry- 
ing,— 

"  You  shall  never  marry  'Darkie,'  my  man; 
you're  done  for  now." 

She  had  plunged  the  knife  deep  into  his  chest. 
She  knew  he  must  die. 

Castelli  staggered,  then  fell  to  the  ground  heavily. 

He  put  his  hand  to  the  wound  to  try  and  staunch 
the  crimson  blood  which  flowed  more  rapidly. 

With  one  wild  effort  he  tried  to  wrench  the  knife 
from  his  chest,  gasping, — 

"  Help  !  help  !  I  am  stabbed." 

But  he  could  not  move  it,  Cleo  had  done  her  work 
too  well ;  and  so  the  blood  flowed  out  of  the  hideous 
wound.  He  grew  faint,  and  at  last  he  lay  uncon- 
scious and  ghastly  on  the  floor. 

Half-an-hour  later  he  was  found  by  a  horror-stricken 
groom,  just  breathing  and  that  was  all. 

"Cleo — has — stabbed — me,"  he  managed  to  whis- 
per at  last. 

The  police  were  sent  for,  and  then  Castelli  repeated 
the  charge  against  her,  a  look  of  hate  stealing  over 
his  white  face  at  her  name.  After  the  police  and 
doctors  had  seen  him  he  was  removed  very  tenderly 


304  SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 

to  the  manager's  office  and  placed  on  a  sofa.  They 
all  felt  the  hand  of  death  was  upon  him. 

There  he  lay,  the  victim  of  a  foul  deed.  All  the 
fury  had  died  from  his  face.  The  dews  of  death  were 
fast  gathering  on  his  brow.  More  handsome  he 
looked  ebbing  out  his  strength  than  he  ever  did  in 
life. 

His  eyes  were  closed.  There  was  silence  in  the 
room.  No  one  dared  to  speak  when  the  hour  of 
death  was  at  hand. 

Whanks,  who  had  been  hastily  summoned,  sat  by 
his  side.  The  doctors,  the  manager,  and  one  or  two 
performers  stood  about  the  room,  all  of  them  dazed 
and  grieved  that  such  things  should  happen  in  their 
midst. 

Castelli  opened  his  eyes  and  murmured, — 

"  Whanks — I  want — to — speak — to — you — alone," 
he  gasped  feebly. 

Castelli's  wish  was  made  known,  and  the  men  went 
out  softly  and  closed  the  door,  and  then  Whanks  bent 
over  Castelli  to  catch  his  last  words. 

"  Ask  her  brother — to — take  care  of — my  children 
— you  will  see — to  that — promise." 

"  I  will,"  said  Whanks  solemnly,  overcome,  and 
much  distressed  to  see  his  old  master  dying  by  a 
woman's  hand. 

Castelli  lay  silent  for  a  few  minutes,  breathing 
hurriedly,  and  then  he  murmured, — 

"  The  horses — must — be — sold  for — the  children 

— and  the  money  in "  But  the  next  words  were 

lost,  and  Whanks  replied, — 

"  Don't  worry,  sir,  I  will  see  to  everything;  the 
children  will  never  want." 

He  looked  up,  and  something  like  a  smile  passed 
over  his  face  ;  but  he  could  not  speak  his  gratitude. 

Suddenly  he  seemed  to  revive  somewhat,  and  then 
he  murmured, — 

"  I  can  see  Leila — down — by  the  sea — the  wind 
blows — the  rock  is  nearly  covered — I  must — save 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 


305 


her."  Then  his  thoughts  wandered  to  their  wedding 
day.  "  You  are — mine,  Leila — I — will  love  you  for 
— ever — how  dark  it  grows — Whanks — are  you  there  ? 
— Leila " 

He  gasped  heavily  twice,  and  then  Whanks  knew 
that  the  great  shadow  of  death  had  fallen  on  Cas- 
telli. 

But  there  were  no  angels  waiting  to  take  him  to 
the  realms  where  Leila  had  gone  long  before. 

o  o 

In  sin  he  had  lived,  in  loneliness  he  died. 

When  the  officers  of  the  law  went  to  arrest  Cleo 
— they  found  her  cold  and  dead. 

An  empty  glass,  a  phial  by  its  side,  marked  "poi- 
son," told  the  oft-repeated  but  silent  tale.  A  scrap  of 
paper,  crumpled  in  her  death  agonies,  was  found 
in  her  hand.  On  it  was  written  : — 

"  I  was  with  you  in  life — I  am  with  you  in  death. 
Only  '  Darkie'  is  left  behind,  and  that  is  well. 

"  CLEO." 

A  motley  crowd  gathered  at  the  cemetery.  The 
curious  and  the  vulgar  saw  the  body  of  the  murder- 
ess lowered  in  silence  ;  only  the  thud  of  the  earth 
falling  on  the  coffin  as  it  was  lowered  gratified  the 
lookers-on.  But  the  words  of  the  burial  service  were 
hastily  read  over  her  victim's  last  resting-place,  and 
then  the  people  went  their  way.  There  was  nothing 
more  to  see. 

But  there  were  no  tears  shed,  no  flowers  left  on  the 
newly  turned  mould. 

Unhallowed,  unblessed,  unloved  they  lay. 

Such  is  the  curse  of  sin. 
30 


306  SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  IVDUST. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

FINALE. 

IT  was  a  lovely  spring-  morning  in  the  early  May 
time.  There  was  happiness  everywhere,  the  joyous 
birds  carolled  forth  their  bright  spring-  notes,  the  robin 
trilling  with  all  his  might  from  the  branches  of  the 
great  walnut  tree,  and  in  the  copse  hard  by  the  lin- 
nets twittered  and  flew  about  merrily  in  the  warm 
sunshine,  and  the  quivering  larks  rose  from  the  grass 
in  the  fresh  meadows,  each  and  all  offering  a  tribute 
of  thankfulness  to  the  profuse  springtime.  The  bees 
hummed  with  a  pleasant  murmur  among  the  new- 
born flowers  and  on  the  blossom  laden  trees,  and  the 
air  was  full  of  the  fragrance  of  the  growing  vegetation 
and  the  bursting  buds. 

Nature  wassublime,  truly  heaven  and  earth  rejoiced, 
for  is  not  the  verdant  spring  the  brightest  time  of  all 
the  year,  more  beautiful,  more  enchanting  because 
the  cold  and  mournful  winter  has  past  and  gone. 
Surely  the  most  placid  must  have  some  love  for 
nature  in  her  supreme  moment?  But  to  those  who 
are  rapt  in  wonder  by  her  changing  seasons  May 
must  be  the  greatest  pleasure  that  life  can  give 
throughout  the  living  year. 

May  tells  of  coming  hopes  and  joys  ;  it  brings  the 
happy  summer  tide,  and  adorns  the  landscape  with 
brilliant  lustre  and  light.  The  voice  of  the  cuckoo 
seems  to  ring  a  welcome  from  the  woods,  as  if  to  say  : 
"  I've  come,  I've  come  with  the  joyous  months. 
With  me  are  the  green  sward,  the  pale  primrose, 
the  tender  anemone,  the  buttercup,  and  the  golden 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST. 


307 


daffodil.  Rejoice  whilst  the  youth  of  the  year  is  with 
you  !  " 

Nowhere  did  the  glorious  sunshine  cast  its  rosy 
blushes  more  brightly  than  over  a  certain  old  manor 
house,  nestling  in  the  heart  of  the  country.  It  rested 
upon  its  ivied  chimneys  and  upon  its  well-kept  lawns 
and  fine  old  garden,  and  enjoying  the  brilliance  were 
Vanda  and  Adrian.  Two  years  had  sped  since  their 
father  was  laid  in  his  lonely  grave,  but  to  the  children 
the  time  had  passed  very  happily.  Tom  had  in- 
tended adopting  both  children,  but  Whanks  would 
not  hear  of  such  an  arrangement ;  and  finally,  when 
he  was  persuaded  to  occupy  certain  rooms  in  the 
house  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Tom,  the  care  and  expense 
of  Adrian's  education  was  left,  at  his  desire,  to  him. 

On  this  sunny  May  morning  the  brother  and  sister 
were  walking  together  for  the  last  time  for  a  long 
year.  Adrian  was  going  to  Rome  to  study  art ;  the 
long-desired  ambition  of  his  young  life  was  about  to 
be  realised,  and  he  was  as  full  of  hope  as  the  spring 
day. 

"Here  come  all  the  rest,"  said  Vanda,  and  they 
stood  on  the  lawn  to  wait. 

A  strange  group  they  looked.  The  tall  fragile  figure 
of  Vanda,  the  eager,  restless  boy,  the  blunt,  white- 
haired  Whanks,  and  the  smiling  Tom  and  his  wife, 
all  gathered  together  to  make  Adrian's  last  day  at 
home  a  very  pleasant  one. 

Through  much  trouble  happiness  had  at  last 
crowned  their  lives,  and  each  felt  that  spring  day 
how  deep  should  be  their  gratitude. 

The  little  group  on  the  lawn  disappears  from  view, 
the  spring  and  summer  has  fled,  and  many  more 
have  come  and  gone,  until  it  is  May  time  again. 
The  old  house  is  gay  enough  to-day,  people  hurry 
hither  and  thither,  the  bells  from  the  ivied  tower 
ring  out  a  merry  peal,  and  the  villagers  stand  in 
little  bands  to  watch  for  the  bride. 

Vanda  Castelli  has  given  her  fresh  young  woman- 


308  SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST. 

hood  to  the  care  of  James  Herepath,  and  her  brother, 
Castelli,  the  great  artist,  the  idol  of  princes  and 
people,  had  come  from  Rome  to  wish  her  God- 
speed. 

And  so  she  left  the  home  which  had  guarded  her 
so  long,  and  with  her  maid  Sally,  now  dignified  with 
the  name  Sarah,  entered  upon  a  new  life,  with  a 
fond  husband  by  her  side. 

Whanks  went  out  to  America  after  Vanda's  mar- 
riage, but  before  he  went  he  told  Tom  the  secret 
of  his  life. 

"The  man  who  ruined  your  life  and  Miss  Leila's, 
the  villain  Herbert  Clifford,  was  my  brother.  To 
make  up  for  his  dastardly  crime  I  have  devoted  my 
life  to  those  she  left  behind.  There  is  no  need  for 
me  now,  so  I  shall  start  once  more,  and  feel  at  rest 
I  have  done  what  I  could." 

And  so  the  curtain  falls  on  those  who  have  suf- 
fered, sinned,  and  died,  and  upon  those  who  lived  to 
rejoice. 

There  we  must  leave  them. 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST.  309 


CHILD  LABOUR. 


ONCE  more  I  have  eschewed  conventualism,  and 
dared  to  put  forth  further  details  of  some  circus  and 
acrobat  life.  I  have  not  dealt  with  the  pseudo-ro- 
mantic in  it,  but  have  brought  forth  facts  in  many 
chapters  which  have  actually  occurred. 

Fearlessly  I  am  grappling  with  an  unsuspected 
source  of  suffering,  trusting  in  time  to  gain  practical 
reform,  and  to  save  those  who  are  at  this  present 
moment  training  under  a  secret  and  hideous  system. 

There  is  little  doubt  that  the  disclosures  made  in 
Ruby  and  in  Slaves  of  the  Sawdust  will  sooner  or  later 
stir  the  public  mind,  and  cause  a  demand  for  some 
simple  but  effective  supervision  during  apprentice- 
ship. For  instance,  the  Act  which  protects  children 
in  our  factories  could  be  modified  and  extended  to 
protect  children  in  the  "  show  "  business. 

Putting  aside  the  evil  of  such  training  and  the 
hardships  of  the  life,  there  is  another  phase  to  be  dis- 
cussed, which  in  a  sense  is  more  degrading,  more 
contrary  to  humanity  then  even  the  cruelties  prac- 
tised on  helpless  girlhood  by  some  mercenary  mas- 
ters, who  force  them  to  do  feats  which  even  tax 
the  powers  of  male  athletes.  I  allude  to  the  iniqui- 
tous system  of  men  waxing  rich  upon  child  labour. 
A  certain  class,  who  train  girls  for  the  ring,  trapeze, 
as  acrobats,  or  for  "  highshows"  and  such  like,  live 
in  luxury,  entirely  on  the  money  earned  by  their 
young  apprentices.  It  is  the  sad,  overworked  chil- 
dren who  bring  large  salaries  weekly  to  their  mas- 


3io 


SLAVES  OF  THE  SAWDUST. 


ter's  pocket.  Is  it  likely  that  he  takes  infinite  pains 
to  train  them  for  their  arduous  feats  excepting  for 
his  own  selfish  gains  ?  It  is  no  exaggeration  to  say 
openly  that  the  master  who  thus  trains  is  nothing 
less  than  a  mere  dealer  in  human  flesh.  There  is 
not  one  iota  of  difference  between  the  bland,  smiling 
man  who  nightly  introduces  his  weary  apprentice  to 
the  public,  and  the  slave  dealers  in  the  Eastern 
markets,  for  each  amasses  wealth  from  the  unpaid 
labour  of  helpless  fellow-creatures. 

What  is  the  remuneration  during  their  long  ap- 
prenticeship for  these  children  who  are  so  rigorously 
taught,  that  they  may  give  passing  pleasure  to  a 
thoughtless  multitude  ?  Food,  which  is  usually  of 
the  best,  so  that  their  strength  shall  be  sufficiently 
supported  ;  clothes,  both  warm  and  comfortable 
— for  would  not  chills  and  sickness  ruin  the  show, 
and  the  master  be  the  greater  loser? — and  some  of 
the  more  generous  occasionally  give  their  apprentices 
a  few  shillings  for  pocket  money. 

This  is  all,  for  seven  or  ten  weary  years — ay, 
fifteen  years  in  some  cases — whilst  they  are  earning 
large  salaries  for  their  exacting  proprietors.  Alas  ! 
for  the  workers  there  are  few  rewards.  Yet  as  in 
every  other  occupation  there  are  valuable  prizes 
ready  for  those  who  have  stamina  and  ability,  but 
how  many  of  all  apprentices  gain  the  prizes  ? 

What  the  public  should  insist  upon  is  registration, 
a  periodical  census  of  the  numbers  of  apprentices 
and  the  number  of  those  who  are  in  the  profession  at 
the  age  of  thirty  years.  More  important  still,  the 
people  should  know  what  has  become  of  the  absen- 
tees. By  this  means  it  would  be  easy  to  trace  how 
many  were  worked  out  at  the  end  of  their  appren- 
ticeship, and  how  many  left  the  profession  in  dis- 
gust. It  has  been  said  to  me  by  more  than  one  per- 
son, "Is  it  likely  a  master  will  part  with  a  valuable 
apprentice  because  the  term  of  indenture  expires  ? " 
My  reply  is,  that  these  men,  with  honourable  excep- 


SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WDUST.  3 1  j 

tions,  know  perfectly  well  that  their  pupils  would 
not  remain  with  them,  because  the  master  could  not 
afford  to  pay  his  late  apprentice  salaries  equal  to  the 
amounts  he,  or  she,  has  earned  for  him.  Again,  as 
these  men  live  on  unpaid  labour,  they  arrange  to 
have  other  apprentices  following  on  to  replace  those 
who  are  out  of  their  time. 

As  a  rule  the  responsibility  of  training  does  not  lie 
with  the  proprietors  and  managers  who  engage 
•'shows,"  for  the  entertainment  of  their  patrons. 
Whatever  their  moral  responsibility,  there  are  few 
who  trouble  to  inquire  how  the  members  of  any  par- 
ticular troupe  were  brought  to  such  perfection  as  to 
justify  engagements  at  high  salaries,  or  care  that 
the  sooner  the  hapless  apprentice  can  earn  for  his  or 
her  master,  the  better  for  him.  Quick  perfection  is 
the  desideratum,  so  to  that  end  the  trainer  works 
them  morning,  noon,  and  night. 

Is  it  right  that  men  should  be  allowed  to  live  on 
child  labour  and  eat  the  bread  gained  by  so  much 
suffering?  Is  it  just  that  trembling  children  and 
growing  girls  should  be  slaving  in  the  heat  and  glare 
of  crowded  circuses  and  music-halls  night  after  night 
in  all  our  great  cities,  and  so  that  their  masters  may 
reap  the  harvest  of  severity  ? 

"No!  no  !  "  the  people  cry  with  one  voice,  but 
they  forget  that  it  is  the  morbid  taste  of  an  inconsid- 
erate public  which  is  the  cause  of  the  evil,  for  it 
demands  more  and  more  difficult  feats,  and  sad 
though  it  be,  so  long  as  there  is  a  demand  in  the 
market,  the  supply  will  be  forthcoming,  as  surely  as 
in  other  commodities. 

The  men  who  are  so  degraded  as  to  live  on  the 
earnings  of  childhood  are  not  those  from  whom  we 
can  expect  mercy  while  preparing  the  victims  of 
their  greed. 

What  will  men  not  do  for  gain  ? 

Before  concluding,  I   wish  to  mete  out  justice  to 


3 1 2  SLA  VES  OF  THE  SA  WD  UST, 

those  in  the  profession  who  rightly  deserve  to  be 
exonerated  from  blame,  and  to  whose  names  no 
stigma  can  be  attached.  There  are  many  such  who 
have  given  me  valued  assistance  in  my  work,  who 
have  stood  by  me  in  the  fight,  and  who  are  ready 
now  to  support  my  efforts.  To  them  I  give  my 
heartiest  thanks. 

"Ah,  yet,  tho'  all  the  world  forsake, 

Tho'  fortune  clip  my  wings, 
I  will  not  cramp  my  heart,  nor  take 
Half  views  of  men  and  things." 

TENNYSON. 


THE  END. 


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